The Jump
by WarsOfShadows
Summary: During the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Harry suddenly finds himself back in the cupboard under the stairs. Now a fifteen year old Harry lives in the body of his ten year old self, and is intent on changing the future for the better. Will he get it right? Or will he change his life for the worse? [Slight AU.]
1. Prologue: This Is The End

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Prologue: This IsThe End_

XxXxX

"No," Harry muttered, disbelief and rage filling him as the shocked form of his godfather arched backwards and passed through the shimmering archway. "No!" he yelled, louder this time. " _SIRIUS_!"

He could hear Bellatrix cackling maniacally behind him, but he didn't care. His blood ran cold. He wanted to see Sirius...

 _He'll be alright_ , he assured himself. _He's just hit by a stunner. He'll come back...He has to!_

But he didn't. Sirius hadn't appeared on the other side of the stone archway, as Harry had hoped he would. It was as if he'd just...dematerialized. Into nothingness.

Tremors of pure, raw sorrow and disbelief wracked his body as he took hesitant, slow steps towards where his godfather had disappeared. Around him, members of the Order and his friends were exchanging spells, but everything was blocked out.

Sirius was gone.

Nothing mattered.

He stretched a shaking arm towards the fluttering darkness of the archway, as if hoping Sirius would reach back and grasp his fingers. But nothing happened. He could still hear the pained whispers coming from the darkness, inviting him forward, and when the tips of his fingers touched the back curtains he felt his insides freeze over—

"Harry, no!"

He felt Remus wrap his arms around his torso, preventing him from following his godfather through the stone archway, tugging him to the ground, where the two of them fell in a heap. Hot tears streamed down his face as he shrugged against Lupin's grip, shouting shrill demands to let him go.

"You can't help, Harry," said Remus, forcefully calm, deceitfully so. "He— he's gone—"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared, writhing in Remus' strong arms. "He's _NOT_ gone!"

Harry bit down hard when his Remus' arm came up to his chin. Yelping, the man's hold slackened from the jolt of pain and staggered, giving Harry room. The fifteen-year-old was up in a flash, holding his wand so tightly that it was a wonder it didn't snap into two. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and scanned the area around him.

He stopped when he saw Bellatrix Lestrange standing a few meters away from him, her mouth open as she shrieked in laughter.

His blood boiled as fury and terror welled up within him. She'd killed him! She'd _killed Sirius_!

"You _bitch_!" he screamed blitzing towards her as fast as his legs could carry him. Bellatrix grinned before sprinting into action, cackling wildly all the way.

" _Ickle Harrikins is getting all angwy_!" she mimicked in her mock-baby voice, leading Harry further and further away from the Death Chamber. "Aww...Did you _love_ him, Harry?"

" _Stupefy_!" he screamed, channelling all his anger and sorrow into the spell. A blinding jet of red light shot out of his wand, powerful enough to dent steel. But his anger had clouded his aim, and his missed his target by a mile.

He sent spell after spell at Bellatrix, not caring if it would hit someone else. He just wanted to kill. To hurt Bellatrix, to inflict the same amount of pain she had inflicted on him. All his limitations had been ripped apart.

He saw Kingsley Shacklebolt toss a tripping jinx at Bellatrix, and his heart skipped a beat when it hit its mark. " _She's mine_!" Harry screamed at the Order member. He would not let anyone else have a go at Lestrange.

" _Diffindo_!" Bellatrix ducked under the cutting curse, responding in kind. Harry was so angry that he barely felt her curse slice into his calf, making him momentarily lose his balance. " _Reducto, Stupefy, Bombarda, Confringo_!"

Bellatrix laughed, dodging or blocking the spells with ease. "I killed Sirius Black, I killed Sirius Black! What're you going to do about it, Potter?!" she shrieked, leading him through another set of doors.

"I'll kill you!" bellowed Harry, following the insane witch into another part of the Department of Mysteries, one that he and his friends had explored before.

The Time Chamber.

He looked around the eerie room before rushing towards the sadistic laughter echoing from his left.

"Show yourself, coward!" Harry yelled, wand at the ready. And Bellatrix did. Harry acted immediately.

" _Reducto_!" He cast. Bellatrix's shield charm was cast with plenty of time, but the pillar of white light from Harry's wand was blinding with intensity. The curved wall of translucent-blue light was fractured and Bellatrix was forced back a few steps. "Looks like you aren't as weak as I thought you would be, Harrikins," Bellatrix sneered, wiping the sweat from the side of her mouth. "But you are still no match for me, the Dark Lord's most faithful servant!"

The duel began. Flashes of coloured light illuminated the vast chamber, spells and curses flying from the ends of each of the casters' wands. Harry ducked under each and every dark curse he saw heading towards him, letting loose shields to protect himself from the ones he wasn't able to evade. He felt adrenaline course through his blood, making him feel alive, but the need for vengeance never left his mind.

A Cruciatus curse from Harry's end slammed into Bellatrix, but the witch seemed to relish the pain. In retaliation, Bellatrix cast her own _Crucio_ , a grin of sadistic glee on her face as the jet of crimson raced towards Harry.

He'd been held under the Cruciatus curse before, but it always felt new to him. He resisted for a second or two but finally succumbed, writhing on the ground as his nerves burned, his scar pounding with raw agony. He felt as if he was made of pain. He just wanted it to _end_ —

The curse lifted, but he was still twitching. "Only a few seconds, Harrikins," Bellatrix hissed, flicking a frizzy strand of hair to the side. "Even Longbottom's mummy and daddy lasted longer!"

Harry choked out a gasp. Bellatrix walked towards him, smiling like a child presented with goodies.

With a shaky arm, Harry lifted his wand an inch upwards. " _Expel_ —" he began, but Bellatrix was faster. With a flick of her wand, she disarmed him, then crushed his wand under her heel, snapping it into two. Harry watched in horror as the two pieces rolled a few millimetres away, connected only by a thin strand of the phoenix feather core. His wand, his trusty wand, had been destroyed.

"Get up, Potter." And he did. He swayed on his spot, but righted himself, breathing heavily as he stared at Bellatrix, who was now glaring at him in fury. Playtime was over.

"Tell me where the prophecy is, Potter," she hissed, twirling her wand in her hand. "Else I shall kill you."

Despite himself, Harry laughed. Bitterly. "You'll have to kill me, then," he ground out. "Because it's gone!"

The witch froze. "What?!"

I have nothing to lose, he mused to himself. "I said it's gone, you daft bimbo," he taunted. "Yeah. It's destroyed! Gone! That stupid prophecy-wotsits – it's no more!"

"No," she said, and Harry found relish when her face bent in fear and anger. "No! You're lying, Potter! _LYING_!"

"No I'm not, Lestrange," he muttered. "What will you do when your master comes here, huh? I'd like to see Voldemort's face, the hypocrite. I can't imagine how a pureblood like you is following that mangy half-blood bastard son of a squib—"

He grunted when a banishing charm hit him square in the chest, with such force that his sternum cracked, along with several of his ribs. He found it hard to breathe as he was lifted off his feet, his vision flickering from the pain passing through his body in pulsating waves. His glasses flew off, blurring his vision, and he was actually happy as he felt his life slowly ooze out of him. He was going to see Sirius again, and his mum, his dad, and Cedric, out of many.

He assumed that the last thing he would feel would be slamming back-first into the wall, but instead he felt like he was sinking through a thick, smooth liquid, like cold blood. Frigid air engulfed him, and he looked to his side to see something similar to a pensieve, held vertically – a hoop of gold, holding a curtain of blue liquid, was engulfing him.

As soon as Harry passed completely through the ring of gold, his world _exploded_.

At first he'd been flying through the air, but suddenly it felt like he was...falling. Falling incredibly fast, like as if someone had shot him through a cannon from high up above, aiming at the ground.

He couldn't see much – well, couldn't see at all, really, because of the wind he was being blasted and bombarded by. It slammed into Harry's eyes and made them water. Everything was so loud that it was a wonder his eardrums hadn't shattered. It was as if someone was constantly screaming into his ears due to the bedlam and chaos of whatever was actually happening.

Harry finally managed to open his eyelids for a few seconds, and what he saw amazed him. He was in the middle of some void, filled with moving colours. It was incredibly chaotic, and the entire experience barely had any coherence or anything that could be understood.

Then suddenly, everything went white.

And he was floating.

Harry felt like he was being levitated into the air, and, as much as he tried, he couldn't move his limbs. His eyes were fixated on a spot, but he couldn't see anything. He could do nothing. He couldn't think coherently. _What the—_

Suddenly, he felt like he was back in Snape's office, under the Potions Master's Legillimency attack. His temples throbbed as he found every single memory – even ones that he didn't even know existed – flashing in front of his eyes. He saw his mother taking the Killing curse, saw his mistreatment under his aunt and uncle's care, Quirrel disintegrating in front of his very eyes when he was eleven; he saw the basilisk die a year later, the time he first met Ron and Hermione, Sirius being tormented by innumerable Dementors, facing Voldemort himself in the graveyard—

Darkness washed over him like a wave, and he passed out.

XxXxX

 **Hello, and welcome to my newest story. I've been wanting to write a Harry Potter fanfiction for a long time (my HP Crossover,** _Harry Potter and the Jewel of Life_ **, doesn't count) and since time travel fics are as common as Ash-rewrite fictions, I decided to give it a go. The top five time travel fictions I've read are** _S'TarKan's HPNoFP_ **(in progress),** _Sindie's The Moment it Began_ **(complete),** _Time Between Us_ **by** _C.Queen_ **(complete),** _You're My Destiny_ **by** _robst_ **(complete) and** _Hindsight_ **by** _loralee1_ **(also complete), so make sure to check them out when you have the time.**

 **One thing I would like to tell you is that this story will be AU. There will be slight changes, such as OOC-ness and characters that were previously presumed dead.**

 **If you enjoyed the prologue, please review, or follow/favourite this story. Every time I see a review it guilt-trips me into writing faster. "Damn, people are actually reading my stuff, I need to write quicker..."**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Arc I: Back to Privet Drive

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Arc I: Back To Privet Drive_

XxXxX

Harry bolted upright, all clammy and sweaty.

He blinked and wondered at first whether he'd gone blind. Then he realized that his surroundings were just dark.

His shoulders slackened. His forehead was aching horribly, like as if someone had cracked it open with an awl. His scar was throbbing the most and felt like it would burst from the agony. He'd felt pain from the lightning bolt on his forehead a few times, but never this severe. Was something about to go wrong?

He opened his mouth to speak. "What the _hell_ —" And he immediately stopped.

For some unknown reason, his voice sounded squeaky. Unrefined, and like a child's. He touched his throat and found no bump over there, which made him panic momentarily. His Adam's apple wasn't prominent. Which meant—

He forced himself not to jump to conclusions, and wracked his mind for his most recent memories. He'd been...in the Department of Mysteries. Yes, that was right. Voldemort had tricked him with a false vision of Sirius, and made Harry and his friends fly to the Ministry. They'd fought off his Death Eater's, and then – he choked on a sob when he remembered Sirius d-dying as he passed through the Veil.

Then a memory of him duelling Bellatrix Lestrange flashed in his mind, making his smile viciously when he'd managed to hit her with a few curses. But after receiving the Cruciatus curse back, followed by an exceptionally powerful banishing charm, Harry couldn't remember anything. Nothing.

"Maybe they rescued me," he said to himself, wincing at his voice. "And my voice is probably a side effect from Pomfrey's potions. Yeah, that's right. Dumbledore must've taken me and the rest back to the cast—"

"Wake up this instance, boy!" a highly familiar – and shrill – voice interrupted from outside.

 _Fuck_.

He wasn't dreaming. That was Aunt Petunia. But...that was impossible! He'd been at Hogwarts for several months and away from Surrey! He'd been at Hogwarts, where he'd been studying for his OWLs, being a victim of the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, suffering under that toad Umbridge, and then running away from after learning that his godfather was in trouble, with barely any time to prepare for—

What had he said? _Time_.

 _Oh, fuck_ , he reiterated, slapping himself in the face.

On a whim, he waved his hand around before finding a thin, long cord, finally tugging it to illuminate his room. And he was met with his worst fears – he was back in Number Four, Privet Drive.

He couldn't help it. Harry started trembling like a washing machine. The last thing he'd remembered was being in the Time Chamber with Bellatrix. He must've screwed something up in there and wound up back into his ten year old body. Which meant that he was back with the Dursleys, and currently residing in the cupboard under the stairs.

"Bloody buggering hell," he mumbled.

He barely had time to contemplate on this mind-boggling discovery when Petunia's shrieking voice pierced him once again. "I said wake up, you lazy freak! I want to see you in the kitchen by the minute!"

He felt a spark of rebellion ignite within him, but decided against it after quickly calculating the odds. As of now, he had neither his wand nor the threat of using wandless magic (which he was sure he wouldn't be able to do) and Vernon would beat him into a bloody pulp for his disobedience. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," he mumbled resignedly.

He made to move, but groaned immediately. His limbs were sore, which probably meant that he'd been smacked around a couple of days ago, but he had since been used to it, and realized that he had no one to tell about. He searched for his glasses and put them on, remembering that they were broken – for now. Once he got his wand, he would make life living hell for the Dursleys. He just had to find a way to not get caught by the Ministry.

He opened the small door and crawled into the hall. He made a mental note to figure out what was happening, because he sure as hell had never heard of such a phenomenon. For now, he decided to just go along with it.

The boy slipped into the kitchen, ignoring the narrowed eyes of Vernon and Petunia glaring at him from the living room. As he put on some bacon and eggs for frying, Harry saw Dudley, roughly the weight of a warthog, stroll pompously in the kitchen, looking like a pig that had learnt to walk on its hind legs. Harry snickered to himself before focusing back on the frying pan in front of him.

"Hello, Dudders," said Vernon cheerfully, his expression changing in barely a second as he looked up from his newspaper. "All set for the big day?"

"Yes, Dad," he said. "Piers and Malcolm'll be meeting us here in about two hours, and Gordon's got to do some work, so he'll come later," he added pleasantly, making Harry feel impressed. He'd rarely heard the massive boy articulate such a long sentence without pausing and wondering what to say next. Then Dudley glared Harry. "Where's my breakfast?!" he bawled.

Harry glared back, making Vernon rise from his armchair. "Don't you dare look at Dudley like that, boy," he growled. "And get on with it!"

Harry looked away. "Yes," he said, then added in a whisper, "you fat oaf."

Petunia entered the kitchen and threw a dirty look at Harry. "Get moving, and don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Dudley's birthday," she hissed. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied impassively.

Petunia sniffed and walked back to the living room, fussing over her son as if he was the Prince of Wales. Harry continued working on the bacon and eggs, already perfecting the particular chore. Still, the Dursleys would never praise him for anything; on the contrary, they would criticise him for the smallest of things.

As he cooked the bountiful breakfast for his relatives, he pondered on his mystifying predicament. How had he come here? If he truly had and it wasn't just a silly dream, how much time had he come back by? He definitely felt eleven years old, but he could be wrong – he could be ten, or nine, because he certainly didn't remember Dudley wearing such flashy clothes on his eleventh birthday.

Another boggling thought was the fact that he seemed to have his fifteen year-old self's memories. He wondered if he would also have his fifteen year old self's magical prowess and knowledge. He felt giddy of the thought of using stunning spells as easily as breathing, or knowing about Quirrel being possessed by Voldemort, or Sirius being innocent—

Which probably meant that he had another chance to redo things and make them right. He could have Sirius free, the Chamber of Secrets never opened, prevent Crouch's son from ever impersonating Mad-Eye Moody and bring out the resurrection of Voldemort. With his knowledge of the future, he could – and would – make a difference.

No more deaths. He wouldn't let Cedric die, nor Sirius. He would make everything _right_.

The only hitch in the plan was that he needed to alter events in such a way that no one should know that he was from the future. According to Hermione (he felt a pang thinking about her best friend, and then his mind immediately shifted to Ron and the rest of the Weasleys and everybody else he'd known at Hogwarts) time-travel was highly regulated, in such a way that Ministry-permitted Time Turners only allowed a person to travel back a few hours. If a person broke that particular law, Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries would be upon them in seconds. Wizards just didn't want people to meddle too much with time. The fact that he wasn't currently at the Ministry meant that he was safe...for now. It would quick change if certain people learnt about it, people that would take no time in knocking Harry down a peg or three.

He finished preparing breakfast, ignoring the snide mutters and remarks from his relatives, and a few minutes later he set four plates of food on the dining table, the one with the least amount of food for him, as it always was. Dudley and Vernon glanced at their plates with greedy, piggy eyes and almost leapt at the dining table, digging in immediately. Harry started in on eggs, finishing them within the minute and then washing his plate before waiting for the rest to hand over their own plates to him.

Harry noticed the date just as he got back up – it was 23rd June, Dudley's birthday, but the year was 1990. He was nearly six years back in time. He felt realization hit him like a train; this wasn't a dream.

Once all the morning chores were done, Vernon rounded in on Harry. "Now listen here, boy," he muttered as Petunia led Dudley out of the house and towards the car. "I'm not going to let you spoil my darling son's birthday, so you'll be finding yourself back in that crackpot Figg's house for the day. If I hear that you did anything _freaky_ —" his moustache bristled as he said those words, "—I will flay your skinny arse to the bone. Do you understand, boy?"

"Yes, Ver— Uncle Vernon," Harry corrected himself in the nick of time. Thankfully, Vernon didn't seem to notice, and seemed surprised by the lack of timidity Harry exuded after his words.

Vernon grunted and led Harry outside. He saw Dudley bawling over the fact that he'd gotten only thirty-five presents this year, and Petunia looked tearful as she promised her 'Dinky Diddydums' that they would buy him two more presents during their trip. That seemed to ease Dudley and he entered the car without a fuss.

Harry groaned when he saw the wrinkled form of Arabella Figg open the door to her house, which smelled exactly as he remembered – like cats. Vernon smiled as sweetly as he could, an expression that reminded Harry of Umbridge, which in turn made him want to grimace. He numbly heard Mrs Figg promise Vernon to keep hold of Harry until they returned (which would be late at night, since the family of three would be going for a late night movie) and Dursley left without another word.

Harry knew that Mrs Figg was actually spying on him for Dumbledore, and that she had to treat Harry neutrally so that the Dursleys would never find out that he was being treated nicely, but he couldn't help but despise the woman. Her cats (or kneazels, rather, now that he knew) ran all over him, making him grimace each time they mewled loudly. A few even hissed angrily at Harry for unknown reasons until Mrs Figg sent them away to another room, and he waited in boredom as he was forced to watch those stupid soap operas with the squib.

The only good thing that came out of it was the fact that an idea – a rather excellent one at that – came to him within an hour of being at Mrs Figg's house, as he thought of his current predicament. He could easily make his way to Diagon Alley by calling upon the Knight Bus and made some crucial decisions there, such as purchase books on spellcasting and various other branches of magic so that he would one day become a force to reckoned with. He needed to be stronger, and faster, and smarter to win the coming war against Voldemort – while he would certainly alter events with his partly-unexplained knowledge of the future, he had to take the possibility of Voldemort somehow making it back into the realm of the living. And he certainly could not ignore that certain probability.

The only question: how was he supposed to get there? He didn't have a wand right now to call upon the Knight Bus, and he also didn't have any money to pay for the fare. While he could use his fame as Harry Potter to try to get a free ride, he felt uncomfortable doing that particular thing. Not to mention he didn't trust Stan Shunpike with the knowledge that he was living in Privet Drive.

He wondered if Mrs Figg had a wand of her own, but swatted the possibility away. She was a squib; surely she wouldn't be able to cast magic. Although he did remember Argus Filch, another squib, having a wand of his own back in his second year...

He decided to take a risk and search Mrs Figg's house for whatever he needed. He felt the elderly woman's eyes on the back of his neck for a few seconds, then he relaxed when they roved back to the TV. He sighed. He hoped that she wouldn't be suspicious of him.

His only chance came fifteen minutes later, when Arabella Figg received an unannounced call to the bathroom. "Stay here, Harry," she said in forced sternness. "I'll be right back."

The moment she disappeared from sight, he shot into action. He feet thought on their own as they took him to a random room on whim, and he felt like whooping when he struck gold. This was the room where she kept all of her stuff related to the Magical world. He could see the shelves lined with muggle books, with a few Wizarding books wedged randomly between them with titles such as _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and _Quidditch Through The Ages_. He barely gave them a glance before his eyes set on her drawers and immediately began rifling through them.

"C'mon, c'mon," he muttered anxiously, his hands blurs as the opened and shut drawer after drawer. He was ready to give up, but fate seemed to be on his side. The last drawer was filled with pouches of galleons, sickles and knuts; right behind, collecting dust under a Kwikspell pamphlet, was an old wand, as long as his palm and fingers together.

"Yes!" Harry whispered triumphantly. He quickly pocketed the length of wood, before grabbing a few galleons, sickles and knuts from each pouch. He grimaced. "Sorry, Mrs Figg." Then he ran out of the room.

It was barely a few seconds later when Mrs Figg came out and sat right in her armchair, frowning when she noticed Harry sucking in bags of air. "Why are you looking so tense, Harry?" she asked.

 _Shit_. "Um... One of your cats leapt onto me, Mrs Figg. I was just...trying not to make a noise," he said timidly, secretly congratulating himself for imitating his younger self.

She deemed this explanation acceptable and nodded. "Fair enough."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He'd just dodged a bullet.

XxXxX

After forcedly watching those silly soap operas for another half hour, Harry put his plan into action. "Mrs Figg..."

The squib perked up. "Yes, Harry?" she said, petting a white-furred half-kneazel seated on her lap.

He squirmed in his seat. "I...I was wondering if I could...go to Magnolia Crescent's park for some time?" he said timidly, silently wondering whether he should've received an Oscar award.

Mrs Figg frowned. "Now, Harry, your uncle—"

He made the most innocent set of eyes and stared at her. " _Please_ , Mrs Figg?" he practically begged, and he wasn't playing the part. He needed to go to Diagon Alley. "Uncle Vernon never allows me to go to there."

Mrs Figg looked torn, but then she sighed. Harry whooped internally. "Alright, Harry. But do not tell your uncle and aunt that I allowed you to do so. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded eagerly, and Mrs Figg told him to get out. He did so in barely a second.

As soon as he slammed the door shut, he grinned. "Diagon Alley, here I come," he said.

XxXxX

Getting to Diagon Alley was pretty easy. As soon as he was out of range of Mrs Figg's house, he held out the stolen wand in his arm, waiting on the kerb for his transport to appear. He'd experience the presence of the Knight Bus before, but he couldn't help but flinch when it appeared with a loud bang.

The Knight Bus had muggle-repelling charms around it, so he was good enough when he saw the residents of Surrey not even glance in his direction. He climbed onto the bus to see a young Stan Shunpike waiting for him inside.

He dismissed the memorized introductions Stan began to give and took out eleven sickles. "The Leaky Cauldron," he said tersely, handing over the fare. Stan took his money and Harry began to walk away to a bed, not wanting his ill-disguised scar to be noticed, but Stan stopped him suddenly.

"Wochuu say your name was?" Stan asked Harry.

"Dudley Dursley," he fabricated, thinking of the first name in his mind, and Stan shrugged before letting him pass.

Harry got off at his stop and walked into the tavern as quickly as possible, keeping his head low as he squeezed through the people there. He noticed Tom the barman's gaze linger on him, but the man didn't say anything, for which Harry was grateful. He went to the back of the bar and pulled of Figg's wand, tapping the required bricks to enter Diagon Alley. The wall split apart and gave him access to one of the busiest places Harry had ever seen.

Diagon Alley was just as he'd remembered. Witches and wizards bustled here and there, shops lining either side of the marketplace. Diagon Alley was as colourful as always, and he could see a multitude of shops he'd remembered from back in his timeline. He also made a not to feign surprise when Hagrid brought him here the first time around.

Harry walked in, brushing past several other marketers as he headed down the cobbled pavement towards Gringotts. The only difference was that a few shops that Harry remembered from his last time around seemed to be replaced with other shops; for example, a new addition by the name of _Potions Extremism_ was wedged next to Fortescue's. While he was intrigued by the new store, he needed to get his priorities right. He couldn't buy anything without money – whatever he'd taken from Mrs Figg had only been a galleon or two a couple dozen sickles for the bus fare. Gringotts had to be his first stop.

He arrived at the large, marble building within minutes, and he was unsurprised to see Gringotts open for business. There were a multitude of customers inside, most of them wearing traditional wizarding clothes. Harry felt horribly exposed in Dudley's muggle clothes, and couldn't help but flush in embarrassment under the few stares he received from a couple of wizards inside, but he trudged along to the nearest available teller.

Harry cleared his throat at the goblin, who looked up with a raised eyebrows. Harry blushed, but steeled himself. _Don't mess this up, Potter_ , he told himself. "I wish to enter my vault," he said respectfully, yet curtly. He didn't dare simper; goblins were ruthless creatures that hated signs of weakness from others.

The goblin looked at him curiously and held out a clawed hand. "Your key...?" he asked in a raspy voice.

His heart skipped a beat. _Merlin_. "Erm, I don't have it as of now, but I know the number, it's vault number 687—" He sighed. This wasn't going very well. "Is there another way I could visit my vault?"

The goblin bared his sharp teeth in a grin and nodded. "Yes, there is. One can always opt for a blood signature test, Mr...?"

"Potter. Harry Potter." The goblin cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further.

The blood signature test was done fairly quickly. The goblin took out a small, bronze dagger, slashing it across Harry's palm so that the dagger would be imbued with Harry's blood. "Pipsqueak," the goblin muttered when Harry gasped in pain, making the boy glare at him in return. The Gringotts bank teller pressed the dagger to a parchment, which flashed gold, after which the goblin nodded.

"Everything seems to be in order," he hissed as he pulled out the vault's key from somewhere Harry didn't want to know. The goblin waved his hand dismissively over Harry's cut palm, and Harry blinked in surprise as the skin around the slash knitted back. "You have access to the Potter Trust Vault, which will be refilled by the family vault if it is ever depleted. The Potter Family Vault, however, will be inaccessible to you until you are seventeen. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded. He'd never heard of the Potter Family Vault before, figuring that the trust was the only source of money he had. He felt anger at the thought of having so many secrets kept from him, but calmed himself. This time around, things would be different. He would be prepared.

Harry asked the goblin (whose name was Ripjaw) if he would be allowed to withdraw some money, and the creature simply told Harry to follow. After a rollercoaster ride through the underground tunnels, the goblin unlocked Harry's vault for him and allowed the boy access. It wasn't long before all the pockets in Harry's – or rather, Dudley's – baggy trousers were filled to the brim, weighing them down even further, but Harry didn't care. This would help him a lot during the one year before Hagrid would come to take him.

Ripjaw led Harry back to the hall of the bank and held out the golden key to the boy. At first, he was hesitant to take it, knowing that Dumbledore would find it suspicious for Harry to have his Gringotts key prior to him 'knowing' about the wizarding world, but Ripjaw explained that this was just a second and only copy of the key, the original kept with Professor Dumbledore. Harry let out a sigh of relief and took it with him; after all, he never knew when he would need to withdraw galleons once more from Gringotts in the future.

After exchanging several galleons for muggle money (which meant that he had a substantial amount of pounds that would let him live a far more luxurious life for the next year compared to what the Dursleys would give him) Harry made his way out of Gringotts. He quickly listed out his priorities. The first thing he would need to buy would be a cloak to prevent his scar from being seen by unwanted people. He wouldn't be surprised if he saw the Weasleys, or even the Malfoys, roaming around Diagon Alley, although he was sure the latter would be far more interested in Knockturn, probably selling/buying dark artefacts from _Borgin Burke's_.

The next thing he would need to buy would be books on various aspects of the wizarding world, such as defensive magic, transfiguration, charms, etc. Harry already had the knowledge of a fifteen year old wizard, so he was basically an OWL level ten year old. A few books on wizarding law would also be helpful if he wanted to get Sirius out as quickly as possible. He felt a pang of excitement and wistfulness as he thought about his wrongly-incarcerated godfather, and vowed to get him out of that hell-on-earth as fast as he could.

He snorted when he thought about buying a book on potions just to mess with his Potions Master. It would be pleasing to make Snape look stupid by answering all of his quest—

Snape. The thought of the surly Potions professor made his blood run cold. The greasy bastard had been a right pain in the arse during his fifth year with the repeated torture under the pretence of Occlumency lessons, and that thought gave him another shudder. The thought of Snape using Legillimency to pervade his thoughts and memories made him sick – he didn't want him to find out about Harry's time travel, or else he'd be locked up in Azkaban, where the Ministry officials would kill him with an overdose of Veritaserum. What to do...?

He made sure to purchase a tutorial book on Occlumency and its sister art, Legillimency. While he grudgingly admitted that he wasn't the best at mind magic, he would do his best to build at least rudimentary shields to prevent Snape from learning of his foreknowledge.

Harry quickly made his way to a clothing store and purchased the first cloak he could find, making his way out once again onto the cobbled pavement. It was hot under the black cloak, but it was a small price to pay for what was to come.

The next place he went to was Flourish Blotts to purchase a few books of his choices, which included Potion-making for Beginners, Theory of Defensive Magic, a book on wizarding law, to name a few. The clerk at the bookstore raised an eyebrow when Harry asked him for a book on Occlumency, but gave it to him nonetheless.

Harry thanked the man and began to walk away, but was stopped when the clerk decided to speak for the last time. "You may want to try and flatten your hair once again, Mr Potter," he said with a smirk. Harry flushed in embarrassment and pulled the hood of his cloak lower as he rushed out of the place in a jiffy.

The next thing he bought was a 'mokeskin pouch' from a place called the Moke Shop. According to the shopkeeper, it had an Undetectable Extension and Retrieval Charm that would hold a number of items for the owner and could also shrink in size as to prevent others from seeing it. Harry was practically giddy after hearing that, and purchased it immediately, never mind how expensive it was. He quickly left the shop, stuffing all of his earlier purchases, along with the numerous money pouches he'd taken from Gringotts.

Harry wore the cloak all the way to Privet Drive, removing it only when he got off the Knight Bus after the return journey. After Stan bid him farewell and the Bus disappeared with a bang, Harry stuffed the cloak and Mrs Figg's wand inside the mokeskin pouch, shrinking it before he walked quickly to Mrs Figg's place. It was getting late, and the Dursleys would be back in a few hours, and he didn't want to get caught for anything.

Mrs Figg looked surprised when he came back and asked him whether he'd gotten into any trouble, to which Harry answered negative. It was three hours later when the Dursleys returned, and Harry was pretty tired after his escapade. As of now, he could only wait for what was to come.

XxXxX

A year passed by quicker than he'd expected, at least for Harry, and he couldn't help but say that he'd had a productive thirteen months. He'd began reading upon a vast number of spells, and began trying to understand the Magical theory behind them. Occlumency was a right pain in the arse, and it continued to elude him, just as it had in the past (or was it the future? Harry couldn't tell). He'd managed a thin shield, but with Snape being a Master Occlumens his mental barriers would be battered down in under half a minute.

Which was why he had begun trying an alternate way to counter Snape's Occlumency – a branch of Occlumency, one which was far quicker to learn. It required the wizard to use some of their memories as a shield to prevent a Legillimens from viewing the ones that the Occlumens wanted to hide, literally disguising the important ones. The only downside was that it was a fair bit easier to break through, which was why there were so few willing to learn this method than true Occlumency, but since Obfusco-Occlumency, or simply Obfuscomency, was very hard to detect, it wouldn't be much of a problem Harry. He was sure that Snape, the greasy git, would be arrogant enough to underestimate Harry and never think that he was capable to learn such an obscure branch of mind magic.

Since Harry spent most of his time doing chores, he barely had time to practice Occlumency, and therefore Obfuscomency seemed to be much more appealing. He ate far less and mostly gave up on school, instead opting to gather as much time as he could to achieve his goal, meditating as he tried to create the most impenetrable maze of memories as he could. He also did his chores much faster and stayed away from the Dursleys' house as much as he could, an action that his relatives absolutely adored, much to his minor disappointment.

But the year was filled with equal dread and anticipation. What if, by changing things, he ended up messing the entire timeline? What if he never met the Weasleys on the platform, or if he never got close to Hermione or Ron? What if he never managed to buy Hedwig when Hagrid would take him to Diagon Alley? And what if, by an unintentional slip-up, Wormtail caught onto Harry's plan and realised the game was up and ended up fleeing, never allowing Sirius a chance at his rightful freedom? If he messed things up, everything could go horribly wrong, and he foreknowledge of the future would quickly become useless.

Certain events would have to happen they way they'd happened the last time, or else things would go horribly wrong. One small ripple could change everything, which was why Harry had to be very cautious with the way he would have to change things for the better.

When the first Hogwarts letter came in, Harry couldn't help feel nervous. At first he wanted to open it up and feign surprise as he asked his uncle and aunt about the wizarding school, but dismissed the notion. The aftermath could be anything, and he didn't want to deal with the unknown. Better to leave things – harmless ones, that it – as they originally were.

Predictably, Vernon and Petunia freaked out the instant they saw the sealed letter in Harry's hand, and demanded him and Dudley to get away, leaving no room for argument. Dudley, of course, like before, wanted to eavesdrop through the keyhole, and was utterly surprised when Harry didn't put up any resistance. As a matter of fact, he was downright gaping when Harry simply walked away back into his cupboard, whistling to his heart's delight.

The next set of events occurred exactly the way the had before – shifting Harry to Dudley's second bedroom, Vernon slowly going insane, boarding up the letterbox, shifting residencies in ever failing attempts to elude wizardkind – only this time, Harry wasn't oblivious to everything. In fact, he was trying to suppress the urge to burst out laughing each time his aunt and uncle drew closer and closer to losing their minds.

On Harry's birthday, he sat awake on a horrible excuse for a mattress as Hagrid attempted to break down the door. He felt none of the shock and fear he'd felt the first time around, probably because he'd already expected this to happen. Dudley and his mum were huddled in a corner, while Vernon tried to put on a brave face as he held the rifle he'd purchased in his shaking hands.

He watched in glee as the door was blown of its hinges, the sound making Vernon, Petunia and Dudley jump almost a foot into the air. He silently cheered as Hagrid entered the hut, his large head brushing the ceiling as he ducked inside, his black beady eyes shining. Vernon and Petunia whimpered, and Dudley looked close to wetting himself. In order to keep appearances, Harry bolted upright, his face bent in faux-shock as he regarded his first, true friend in the wizarding world.

"Hiya, Harry!" Hagrid said as he waved a massive hand. "M'name's Hagrid. I dunno if they've told yeh 'bout this"—he cast a dark look at the Dursleys—"but yer a wizard."

XxXxX

 **I hope you enjoyed this one here. I knows its just a transition chapter, but the plot will thicken from hereon. One thing you'll have to note is that Harry has gone back to 1990 rather than 1991 – six years back in time – because I wanted to give a plausible reason for him to block out Snape and Dumbledore.**

 **I remember reading about a different branch of Occlumency from another time-travel story at one point, but the name and the author eludes me. Or maybe I'm just believing things. If anyone can tell me, I'll make sure to inform the author. Anyway, Obfuscomency is derived from obfuscate – which literally means disguise – which means the Obfuscomens is able to conceal memories with false, unimportant memories.**

 **Thank you for all the favourites, follows and reviews. Happy reading, everyone!**


	3. Arc I: The Protection Severed

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Arc I: The Protection Severed_

XxXxX

"Firs' place yeh wanna go is Gringotts, Harry," Hagrid told him as he led the boy along the cobbled pavement of Diagon Alley. "That's where all yer money is stored. Probably the safest place in the wizardin' world – 'cept for Hogwarts, o' course. Run by goblins, so yeh'll have ter be a madman ter break inter the place."

Harry nodded, feigning awe as he listened to his half-giant friend. It was a good thing he hadn't carried his mokeskin pouch with him, because he didn't want to gain Hagrid's attention – the groundskeeper would probably know Harry was carrying one due to his vast knowledge about magical creatures, and while he was a bit dim-witted, Hagrid would certainly get suspicious. After all, it was common knowledge that Harry Potter had been unofficially exiled from the Magical community for ten years.

Hagrid smiled. "C'mon, Harry. Let's get yer gold first, and then I'll show yeh the rest o' Diagon Alley."

"Okay, Hagrid."

The walk to Gringotts was pretty similar to when Harry had gone there the first time around (in his original time, he added) – Hagrid told Harry about the wizarding world, Hogwarts, and the way Gringotts was managed. There was separate fifteen minute lecture on dragons, and Harry felt amused when Hagrid took particular pleasure in telling him about Hungarian horntails, which made him privately wonder if he would have to participate in the Triwizard Tournament this time around. Harry made a mental note to take out Bartemius Crouch Jr as quickly as he could, and expose Crouch for the hypocrite he was simultaneously, both in the most unsuspecting way possible.

Harry had tried to procure some information about the philosopher's stone (which Hagrid once again called in a stage-whisper the 'you-know-what) beforehand, but Hagrid quickly changed the topic to chimaeras.

After retrieving a good amount of gold from Harry's trust vault, Hagrid once again gave Harry a tour of the magical marketplace. They bought his books from _Flourish and Blotts_ , Potions ingredients from the apothecary, a collapsible pewter cauldron, and a set of standard Hogwarts robes from _Madam Malkin's_. It was a good thing Harry didn't meet Draco Malfoy while he was being dressed up, because frankly he didn't think he could've stopped himself from hexing the blonde ponce's arse off into next year.

Once they were done purchasing the robes, Hagrid stopped Harry outside and rubbed the back of his neck. "Harry, d'yeh mind lettin' me off fer a min' or two? I need ter, uh...get a drink from the Leaky Cauldron, tha's all."

Harry nodded and shrugged. "Alright, Hagrid."

Hagrid beamed. "Alright, Harry," he told the boy. "Don' go wanderin' off! Why don' yeh wait at Fortescue's, eh? Might as well get summat fer yerself," he added, tapping the bag of money around Harry's hand.

With a quick mutter of "I'll see yeh soon," Hagrid ambled off towards the Leaky Cauldron. Harry stood there for a minute before deciding that a nice sundae wouldn't do any harm, so he waddled off to _Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour_ , where he immediately ordered a chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts. It seemed like a weird combination, but it was surprisingly good – so good, that Harry ordered a second. It was only when he paid the money that he noticed the shop right next to Fortescue's.

 _Eyelop's Owl Emporium_.

With a sudden pang, he remembered his only connection to the magical world during those gloomy months at Privet Drive – Hedwig. The beautiful snowy owl had been one of the many things that kept reminding him that he was due to board the Hogwarts Express and survive those horrible few months with the Dursleys, where he was forced to be nothing more than an house-elf. He assured himself that he would get Hedwig at his side by hook or by crook.

Without further ado, he rushed into _Eyelop's Owl Emporium_ and quickly came to a halt when he saw the shop clerk, not reciprocating the clerk's kindness. "So you have a snowy owl?" Harry asked – or rather, interrogated.

The clerk looked taken aback from the fierceness in Harry's voice and spoke with a slight stutter. "Y-Yes, we do have one. It's a female. Are you interested in it or...?" He left the question hanging in the air.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course, why else would I ask you of it?" he snapped in exasperation. The clerk raised an eyebrow, but disappeared from Harry's sight, returning a moment later with a caged, pure-white bird in his arms. In an instant, Harry knew that this was the same Hedwig he'd bonded with oh-so many years ago (or was it? The entire thing confused him). The owl, staring at him curiously, simply cocked her head in response when Harry smiled at her.

"That's the one," he said, pleased.

The clerk frowned at him in slight confusion, but didn't say anything, especially since he was being handed over the many coins required for the purchase. The shop clerk said, "Thank you for your business," but Harry was already gone.

"Hedwig's a beautiful name for you, don't you think?" Harry said pleasantly as the owl hooted in excitement.

Harry spent a good few minutes bonding with his familiar (again) until Hagrid made his presence known by walking up to Fortescue's. He questioned Harry about Hedwig, and the boy smiled as his half-giant friend muttered a string of praises laced with awe.

"Well, she's a ruddy beautiful owl, I'll give yeh tha'," Hagrid admitted. "To tell yeh the truth, I was plannin' ter buy yeh an owl for yer birthday, but I could do with payin' fer yer wand, yeh know..."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. After all these years, he still felt embarrassed when Hagrid chose to buy him something for his birthday. He spoke stiffly. "You don't need to, Hagrid—"

"I know I don' need ter, but I ruddy well will," Hagrid cut off indignantly. "After all those ruddy muggles did, I can't jus' let yeh off without buyin' yeh summat..."

Harry knew that arguing would get him nowhere, so he reluctantly allowed Hagrid to purchase his wand for him. Harry felt nothing but dread and anticipation as Hagrid led him to the dusty and small shop that belonged to Garrick Ollivander.

Harry walked inside and steeled himself to not flinch when Ollivander made his appearance. However, after waiting for five long minutes that seemed like eternity, Harry grew impatient. "Hello?" he said. "Is anyone there?"

"Hello, Mr Potter."

Caught unawares, Harry jumped into the air and whipped around, glaring at the wizened old man smiling eerily at him through stormy grey eyes. _Damn the geezer_ , Harry grumbled, chiding himself. Ollivander had probably mastered scaring the living daylights out of people to an art form.

"You're Ollivander's, aren't you?" Harry said, pretending to be stupid.

"Yes I am, Mr Potter." Ollivander, despite his eerie appearance, sounded kind. Maybe that had been the only thing that prevented him from running away the first time around. The man walked around Harry and stopped behind his counter, rifling through the several boxes the size and shape of narrowed shoe boxes. "It seems like it was just yesterday that your mother and father were in here to buy their own wand. I remember your father purchasing one that had a strong affinity for transfiguration, a particularly difficult branch of magic... _ah_."

Ollivander brought forth a box and opened the lid, revealing a thin, long, ebony wand with a twiggy appearance. "Try this one, Mr Potter."

Harry picked it up, even after knowing that this wasn't the wand for him. However, Ollivander wasn't supposed to know that.

"Give it a wave."

Harry shook his head. He already knew that this wand didn't accept him, as Ollivander had put it, and he didn't want to destroy the old wizard's store trying to prove that to him. He decided to give an acceptable explanation. "I don't think so. It just feels...wrong. It's giving me odd vibes, that's all." It was true, anyway. Holding the wand felt like he was using it through someone else's arm. It was a weird explanation, but it had to do.

Ollivander raised an eyebrow and delicately placed the wand back into its box. "Very well, Mr Potter." He walked back and appeared a minute later, another box in his hands. "Let's try this one, shall we?"

And so it went. Only this time around, Ollivander didn't have to clean up any mess Harry created by trying different wands that didn't respond to him well enough. It was a good twenty wands later when Ollivander decided to bring out the holly-and-phoenix wand. "I wonder..."

Ollivander carried out the dusty box and carefully revealed the wand inside. Within was a jet-black wand of holly wood nearly a foot long, lithe and thin, yet strong. Ollivander nudged it at Harry, and the boy made sure to appear indifferent instead of joyful at the fact that he was being reunited with his original wand.

But when he held it, something was...different. It was like the air was heavy, like a storm was about to burst out at any moment. He could feel a thrumming in his bones, and _felt_ a storm, inside. And he knew that feeling. The pressure around him was unmistakable. It was…powerful. Different. Mesmerizing.

Frightened, he stopped concentrating his magic around the wand, and Ollivander looked at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity. "My, my, Mr Potter…It has certainly been a long time since I have seen a wizard with such a strong magical core enter my little shop…And even more curious is that you have _that wand_."

Harry would've been laughing inside, but the first half of Ollivander's statement unnerved him. _Strong magical core?_ The man wandmaker had never mentioned it to him in the previous timeline.

Ollivander must've thought that Harry was thinking about the wand, because he decided to elaborate. He spoke solemnly. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter, and no single wand is ever same. But it so happens that the phoenix whose feather constitutes the core of your wand gave another feather – just another. It is curious that you should be the one to receive that wand, when its brother gave you that scar."

He pointed a wrinkled and shaking hand at the jagged scar on Harry's forehead, and he suddenly felt sick. It was a good thing that Hagrid came in at that very moment and asked, "Oy, what's takin' yeh so long, Harry?"

"Rubeus," Ollivander said smilingly, moving his eyes to the half-giant. "I take it you are keeping well?"

Hagrid puffed his chest. "Yes, Mr Ollivander."

"I remember they snapped your wand during your third year at Hogwarts, if I'm correct," he continued, and Harry wanted to smack him for reminding Hagrid about the Chamber of Secrets mishap fifty years ago, for which Hagrid had taken the blame. _I'm going to get Hagrid cleared and his wand back this time around_ , he thought to himself vehemently.

Hagrid looked embarrassed. "Yes, Mr Ollivander."

"But you don't keep the pieces?"

Hagrid's face turned redder. "No," he said quickly, hiding his umbrella behind him.

Hagrid quickly paid Ollivander for Harry's wand and led the boy outside, muttering expletives all the way out for being reminded of his past experiences. Harry sympathized his friend, but couldn't do much. He didn't want to probe Hagrid about that, either. For now, he just wanted to get back to Privet Drive and continue doing anything productive during the time he had left.

XxXxX

The weeks leading up to the start of term were filled with much nervousness and anticipation. However, Harry kept on practicing his Obfuscomency, and putting in a little Occlumency practice here and there so that, when the time came, he could capitalize on his rudimentary shields. The only problem was that he had much trouble "clearing his mind", as Snape had put it, but he found out that with a bit of hard work, it could be done.

Not to mention that Occlumency helped him cast non-verbal spells with little difficult. The different aspects of mind magic were webbed together so that mastering a single branch eased the learning of other mind magic. The few times Harry had gone to Diagon Alley after his trip with Hagrid, he was easily able to light up his wand with Lumos without verbally casting it, along with several other first-, second- and third-year spells he'd learnt previously.

Harry was also thinking about getting the Trace removed, but decided against it. Removing the Trace from an underage wizard was highly illegal, and he didn't even know who would be gutsy enough to do that for him. Furthermore, if Dumbledore would get the wind of it, he'd be in much deeper trouble that needed.

Meanwhile, the Dursleys, as expected, and much to Harry's happiness, left him alone and to his room. The only time he saw them was when he was doing chores, which wasn't much, since before leaving Hagrid had threatened them to treat him better or face the half-giant's wrath. The Dursleys did just that, while also pointedly ignoring him. They even began giving him adequate meals, although Harry tended to eat out with the money he'd withdrawn from Gringotts a while back.

It was a few days before the start of term when Harry met with an incident. As soon as he'd done preparing breakfast, Harry made to rush back to his room, only for Petunia to stop him.

"I know you will be going to that— that _freak_ school of yours in a couple of days." She wasn't looking at him, instead staring in another direction, as if he was invisible. "Let me tell you, boy, your mother went there too, and look where she ended up! Look where she and your stupid father are right now, dead for meddling with that freakiness of yours! Freaks, the lot of you!" she shrieked.

"But you still have time. If you choose to stay here and forget all this nonsense, we will keep you in, and maybe treat you like Dudley. But if you find yourself taking up that offer and getting on that stupid express…" She looked at him, pure revulsion etched on her face, and hissed, "I never want to see your freaky face again."

Harry stared at her. When had Petunia ever expressed so much hate for him? Yes, she clearly didn't like him, but as he looked into her eyes, he saw that she was _made_ of hate. Plus, he'd never ever heard his aunt talk to him like this before, either, and it sounded like she was serious. It was either forget about magic and stay, or go and never come back.

Inside, Harry was oddly pleased. If she wasn't going to accept him next year, he didn't care. This wasn't his home, anyway. He might as well live in Azkaban, which was more of a home than this godforsaken hell. At least his godfather would be there with him. Harry knew that Dumbledore would want him to come back for the protection his mother had given him, but right now, he just wanted out.

"Fine by me," he ground out, glaring at her.

His aunt's head snapped at him in brief shock, but then her eyes turned colder than the arctic. "Good riddance," she spat frostily. Harry simply walked up to his room, glad that he would no longer have to deal with the Dursleys.

XxXxX

Miles away, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat alone in his office, a pensive frown on his face as stared at one of the peculiar instruments in his office, glass of firewhiskey long forgotten. First curiosity, then surprise, then fear, and confusion flashed across his face as he contemplated the situation presented to him. It couldn't be true. The protection Lily had set up was supposed to last for another six years, Dumbledore thought, finally taking a sip of the amber liquid next to him. He didn't know how it was possible, but one thing was clear.

The Bond of Blood Charm was failing. _Rapidly_.

XxXxX

 **Thank you for taking the time to read! As always, if you like this story, hit that follow and favorite checkbox at the end if you haven't already. Reviewing would be nice – I love hearing your thoughts on the chapter, and any constructive criticism is welcome wholeheartedly, since it will undoubtedly help my writing skills.**

 **A few notes on this chapter:**

 **The part at the end means that Harry is not going back to the Dursleys next year – there isn't really any point in hiding it, not that I went to any great lengths to do it. The only thing I will hide is where Harry will be staying for the rest of his school years. All I can tell is that it is very important to the plot and the demise of Lord Voldemort.**

 **Harry has a stronger connection with wand because he's (accidentally) travelled from the future. This idea is somewhat similar to** _S'TarKan's_ **in** _HPNFP_ **chapter twelve,** _Doing The Mungo Shuffle_ **– Harry's magical energy have merged, giving him far greater raw potential and power than an eleven year old would normally have. Thus, he has the energy of a sixteen year old and an eleven year old together, which gives him a much greater advantage. It is also why he received such a strong response from his wand than he expected.**

 **As for Dumbledore…no, he's not going to be bashed here. I really think that Dumbledore was doing everything he could do, if only his methods were a bit…manipulative. While he's not the epitome of goodness, I certainly love him as a character (as well as Snape – that's right, come at me. I guess I like Snape mainly because of Alan Rickman [God rest his soul] but, well, I can't help it).**

 **Another note for my dear readers: the next update will be slow. For those who read the rest of my stories, or have checked out my profile just to waste time, you'll know that I have my final examinations coming up in a little over a fortnight, and occur from the 21st of Feb to the 15th of March. Therefore, the next chapter will come out on the 22nd of Feb, and the one after that on the 16th of March. Sorry, everyone, but it can't be helped. :(**

 **Until then, stay awesome!**


	4. Arc I: Back To Hogwarts

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Arc I_ _: Back to Hogwarts_

XxXxX

The next few days were a bit painful for Harry. He remained absent in the household as long as possible, not that the Dursleys minded. Ever since that unplanned and short conversation between Harry and Petunia, things had turned especially sour. Petunia had turned colder than ice in front of him and treated him with as much respect as Harry had treated Wormtail. Dudley no longer troubled Harry, whether at the house (Harry refused to refer it as home) or at school. There was also the matter of Vernon. His maniacal uncle seemed to be even rougher and ruder with Harry for these short days, which further resolved Harry's need to stay outside for prolonged hours.

He kept practicing Obfusco-Occlumency whenever he could, which was almost the entire day. He barely slept, instead choosing to stay up and plan his next moves, or how to deal with the atrocities that had happened each year.

 _I'll have to deal with Quirrel as quickly as possible, but I can't let anyone know about it. Hell, I can't even let Dumbledore know about my foreknowledge. Maybe he'll Obliviate me to prevent me from tampering with time, and I sure as hell am not going to let anyone die this time!_

The morning he was to leave, he received a fair surprise, which he should've expected considering the hostile environment in the Dursleys household. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley had already left, probably to get Dudley's pig tail, which Hagrid had given him, removed. Harry wondered how he was to get to King's Cross, but slapped his forehead when he realized he could just as well call for the Knight Bus. No need to depend on this stupid Dursleys anymore.

Harry reached King's Cross earlier than he was needed, but with good reason. He quickly rolled his trunk and Hedwig's cage to the pillar that would lead to platform 9. The only reason he'd come there early was to meet the Weasleys, his second family (second only to his parents and Sirius, that is) during the five years he'd spent previously at Hogwarts.

Harry knew that first impressions meant a lot. Which was why Harry was on his guard, doing his best to represent the wimpy version of himself to befriend the Weasleys. Harry felt a little sick manipulating them, but one small mistake would cost him Ron's friendship, and potentially the Weasleys'.

Finally, after waiting for nearly half an hour, his eyes caught the sight of a gaggle of redheaded children and a matronly woman guiding them. Harry's voice hitched as he saw Ron, his best friend through the five years at Hogwarts, and began rolling his trolley, determined not to lose them.

He steeled himself when he came nearer and nearer to Molly Weasley, who'd just told Fred and George to go through. As soon as George disappeared through the magical barrier, Harry spoke, his voice shaking.

"Excuse me…" he said, clenching his fists. Mrs Weasley frowned and turned to look at him. "I was wondering whether you could show me, uh, how…"

"How to get onto the platform, dear?" she completed, her face breaking out into a smile. The sight of it nearly got him to tears, but he quickly reinforced his Occlumency shields to prevent his emotions of joy and homesickness to spill out. It was a good thing Occlumency exercises helped keeping a person's emotions from showing. "Don't worry, the rest of my boys have been going to Hogwarts for years, and I've helped many a lost soul find the platform. I'm Molly Weasley, and this is my daughter Ginny and my son Ron. The rest of my children have already gone ahead, but I'm sure you'll them soon – they are quite, ah, infamous."

Ginny giggled at that, and Ron cracked a grin. "Hullo," he said, waving at Harry, and he grinned back at his (potentially) future best friend.

"I'm Harry," he introduced, desperate to befriend them. "I'm sorry for troubling you, but I saw your son passing through, and, uh, I was a bit desperate."

Mrs Weasley chuckled. "Nice to meet you, Harry," she said warmly. "Now, to get onto the platform… Well, it's very easy, but also rather unusual. Just run straight toward that pillar like it's not there, and you'll appear at platform 9. It helps if you close your eyes, dear."

Harry nodded and swallowed thickly. "Thank you," he whispered.

Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at him. "No problem, Harry. Why don't you give it a go?"

He nodded, then began to rush towards the magical barrier. Through his peripheral vision he saw Ron following him the second he'd moved. Harry walked through the wall, and smiled brightly when he saw the Hogwarts Express.

Harry turned his head just in time to see Mrs Weasley appear after Ginny and Ron. With another smile, Harry walked to the great scarlet engine and began to haul his trunk onto the Hogwarts Express.

Just like last time, Fred and George appeared out of thin air and began to help him, and, just like last time, were mesmerized when they realized who Harry truly was. Harry resisted the urge to chuckle at the twins' speechless forms, and thanked them before taking the same compartment as last time.

He was growing fearful that Ron would've taken another place, but was relieved when the compartment doors slid open to admit a sheepish looking Ron Weasley. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked. "Everywhere else is full."

Harry smiled. "Sure." He gestured to the seat opposite him. Ron gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks," the redhead said, plopping down opposite Harry. There was a short, awkward silence before Ron straightened and extended his hand. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," he introduced. "You're the kid who mum helped, right?"

Harry nodded. It was so peculiar, talking to someone he'd known so well as if they were little more than strangers – which they technically were, as of now. "Yeah," Harry replied. "I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he added, accidentally copying Ron's unintentional stutter.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes when Ron's eyes bulged in surprise. "You're Harry Potter?" he exclaimed. "Like, _the_ Harry Potter?!"

"I guess I would know my own name," Harry said dryly.

Ron had the decency to blush. "I heard you were sent to live with your muggle relatives or something. How were they like?"

"They were okay, apart from the fact that they hated me and wished I was never born," he said, as if he was talking about the weather.

Ron looked surprised, then glanced at him with pity. "Sorry," he muttered. They sat in silence, Harry wondering if his friendship with Ron was actually going to strengthen until the Weasley spoke. "Do you have the, uh…" He pointed at Harry's forehead.

"The scar?" Harry finished. Ron nodded. Harry lifted his fringe, making the Ron turn red, although he still peered at it for a good number of seconds.

Ron looked at Harry with awe until he posed another question. "Do you remember it?"

Harry sighed. "You mean when Voldemort attacked my parents?" he said dryly, rolling his eyes when Ron flinched at the name.

"You said his name!"

"So?" Harry was getting tired for having this conversation for the second time.

Ron squirmed. "You really shouldn't say his name, you know."

Harry shrugged. "Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," he said sagely, quoting Albus Dumbledore.

Ron nodded dumbly, although Harry doubted he understood what he'd said, because he immediately asked his question again. "Well, what do you remember?" he asked eagerly.

Hermione was right; Ron _did_ have the emotional range of a teaspoon, and the tact of a mountain troll. A particularly vicious part of Harry wanted Ron to have it, and so he did. "Well, I remember my dad ordering my mum to take me and go moments before Voldemort killed him, and then my mum screaming and begging on her knees to not hurt me and kill her instead, which he does before he casts the Killing Curse at me," he snapped waspishly, recalling the painful voices and visions he'd received in his third year during the Patronus Charm practices with Remus Lupin.

A look of horror flashed across Ron's face before he looked like he wanted to puke. The vindictive part of Harry vanished the moment Ron spoke, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "I'm sorry, mate, I had no idea—"

"It's alright," Harry said gruffly, but Ron kept apologizing until Harry threatened to hex his bollocks off. Ron said sorry for the last time, before he changed the subject to Hogwarts.

"That's a damn nice owl you got there, Harry," Ron praised, eyeing Hedwig. Harry smiled.

"Hedwig is beautiful," he murmured.

"Yeah," Ron said sullenly. "All I've got is Scabbers, he's around here somewhere, wait a minute—"

Harry's blood froze at the mention of the traitor and forced himself to stay calm as he reinforced his flimsy Occlumency shields that would keep the utter fury and killing intent from showing. He'd made a mistake preventing Remus and Sirius from killing the bastard in the shrieking shack, realizing far too late that they could have very well shown Wormtail's body to that spineless coward Fudge and cleared Sirius' name. If they'd just _Avada Kedavra'd_ him at that moment, they could've potentially prevent Voldemort from ever rising again.

His fists clenched and he stiffened as Ron showed the greying rat that had pulled the wool over so many people's eyes during the past ten years. For a moment Harry saw red and wanted to just get it over with, but Ron must've picked up on Harry's changed demeanor, because he clutched the rodent protectively to his chest.

"Wh-What's wrong, Harry?" Ron stuttered, fearful for his pet.

Harry calmed himself and shook his head. "Sorry, mate. I was just remembering the night, you know…" he lied.

Upon hearing that, Ron felt even guiltier for making Harry reminisce the horrible events that had resulted in the loss of Harry's parents and the disappearance of Tom, but Harry assured his friend that he didn't blame him in the slightest and that he was over with. Ron didn't look too convinced, but a few minutes later he was back to his usual self.

As he talked to Ron about Quidditch and the Chudley Cannons, Harry couldn't help but keep a gimlet eye on the Animagus, who was oblivious to the horribly evil fantasies involving him being concocted in Harry's mind. Harry didn't want to get rid of Scabbers now, for who knew what would happen to the timeline. Al he knew what that Scabbers would get his comeuppance for the horrible crimes he'd committed.

Scabbers' time would come.

XxXxX

Sometime later, the compartment door opened again. After seeing one of his best friends earlier, Harry was better in keeping his emotions of joy in check.

"Has anyone seen a toad around?" Hermione Granger asked as she entered the compartment. "Neville's lost one."

As if on cue, said boy's head popped in, a nervous expression on his face. Harry remembered how bravely Neville had fought in the Department of Mysteries, fighting the Death Eaters even after his wand had broken. Harry resolved to be a better friend to the boy that had helped Harry even after being told how dangerous the mission would be.

"No, but you could just use the Summoning Charm to get him back," Harry said politely. He decided to just get it over with, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the door. " _Accio Neville's toad_ ," Harry said almost lazily.

The waited for a few moments before Trevor the toad zoomed in, and Harry caught the amphibian in his hand, feeling slightly icky at the toad's smooth and slimy skin. "Here," he said, holding it out.

"Th-Thanks," Neville stammered gratefully, holding his toad close to his chest as he quietly chided him for running away. Hermione, however, looked flabbergasted.

"How…?" she uttered, stunned.

Harry shrugged. "I was just reading up ahead," he lied sheepishly.

"B-But that's a fourth year spell!" Hermione spluttered, feeling slightly jealous of being bested.

Harry mentally cursed himself. _Shit. I've got to stop making showing off, especially in front of Hermione_. The studious girl picked up on things far quicker than others and was very perceptive, so Harry wouldn't be surprised if she would be suspicious of him being a time-traveler. Still, he needed to stay low. "I was checking a few books in _Flourish and Blotts_ , and Accio seemed like a pretty nice spell if I ever can't find something, so I decided to practice a bit."

It was partially true; he'd spent quite some time honing his skills in the Dursleys, after placing Silencing Charms around his room to prevent his aunt and uncle from learning he was practicing his 'freakiness' at home, and he didn't want them to throw a fit. The Trace was only administered once students attended their first year at Hogwarts, so the month before his schooling was free of Ministry letters from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In any case, nobody needed to know that particular tidbit of information.

Hermione seemed to accept his answer, because she immediately began to rant about her own prowess. "I've tried a few spells too, just for practice, of course, and it's all seemed to work out for me. Nobody in my family's magical at all, so it came as a fine surprise for me, but I was ever so surprised. My name's Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom, by the way. And you are…?"

"I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really?" Hermione said in an awed tone. "I've read all about you in _Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ , and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron told her.

"Don't believe everything you read, Hermione," Harry told her.

Hermione looked shocked. "What do you mean?" she said.

Harry shrugged. "Well, none of the people who wrote the books were there that night, were they?" he pointed out. One thing Harry wanted to get out of Hermione's system for her implicit trust in books and people of authority. Her stubborn devotion to those in authority was annoying to the highest of levels. Harry wasn't sure what it was that made her like that, but even when it came to the worst of authority figures, she tended to weigh towards trusting them than distrusting; Snape and Lockhart were proof of that.

That got Hermione thinking. "I guess," she admitted reluctantly. Then she changed the subject. "Where do you think you'll be sorted, Harry? I'm hoping for Ravenclaw, although I certainly don't mind Gryffindor, either; I've heard that's where Headmaster Dumbledore was when he was at Hogwarts. People tell me I'm a bit too ambitious, so I think Slytherin would certainly fit me." She chuckled, showing her teeth.

Ron paled. "Er, I don't think Slytherin'll be too good for you, Hermione," he told her.

Hermione frowned. "Huh? Why not?"

"Slytherin is…" Ron struggled to put it kindly.

"Bigoted," Neville filled in. He sighed. "Slytherin is filled with people who think that muggleborns shouldn't be allowed to attend magic. They believe that a magical marrying a muggle is an evil of the highest sorts, and that every non-magical person in the world shouldn't exist." Neville looked down. "Y-You-Know-Who was a Slytherin."

Hermione was appalled. "That's perfectly ridiculous," she fumed, sitting down next to Ron as Neville sat down next to Harry.

"My mum was a muggleborn, and people say that she was the best witch of her time," Harry quipped.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron told her. "We don't hold your circumstances of birth against you. Plus, you already seem like you're going to be the smartest witch of our age."

That made her cheeks go pink, and Ron looked like he was struggling to not do the same. Harry simply stared at him in wonder. Was Ron having feelings for her right now?

Just then the doors of the compartment opened, admitting another thorn that had been stuck in Harry's backside for five years.

Draco Malfoy walked in, flanked by his posse, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The blond ferret standing in front of them had the same arrogant and smug expression on his face that, for some reason, drove Harry mad. Harry wished that Draco had never been born, but, alas, Fate was rarely on his side.

Draco turned his head high and regarded the four with barely any respect. "Is it true? They're all saying that Harry Potter's in this compartment."

Harry's jaw clenched. "That's right," he all but growled.

Draco smirked that oh-so arrogant smirk of his. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he drawled lazily, "and this is Crabbe and Goyle."

Ron coughed. Draco glared at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" He sneered. "I know who you are. Red hair, freckles, and hand-me-downs so old they seem to be from Merlin's time. You'd have to be a _Weasley_." He said the name with revulsion similar to that when Petunia had talked of Harry's mother.

Ron was shaking with rage, and Neville looked scared. Hermione, however, was watching him in confusion.

"I see you've been consorting with the wrong sorts, Potter," Draco continued, as if nothing had happened. Some wizarding families are better than the others, and you mustn't mix up with bad folk." He leered at Hermione with such venom that she shrank back. "Especially not with a filthy _mudblood_ like her."

There was a loud gasp from Neville; Ron shot into the air as he shouted, "Oi!"; Hermione flinched as if she'd been slapped, and, once she realized the offending name applied to her, her eyes began to shine. Harry was so overcome with anger that he immediately pulled out his wand, and then all hell broke loose.

A stinging hex from Harry struck Draco between his legs, making the blond pureblood howl in pain as he clutched his manhood and fell to the ground. Crabbe and Goyle stared in shock at their writhing leader before they decided to attack, but Ron was swifter and kicked Goyle in the groin, making him crumple. Harry simply pressed the tip of his wand against Crabbe's neck, and hissed, "Try me, bitch."

Crabbe raised his hands in a truce and backed off as Ron too pulled out his wand. Goyle got back up and started backing up too, leaving Draco alone on the floor.

Harry bent down and looked at Draco until their faces were barely an inch apart. "I'd rather 'consort' with a Dementor than a junior Death Eater like you, Malfoy. And _never_ use that word in front of me."

Draco whimpered and Harry, satisfied, rose. "Now get out!" he barked.

When the Malfoy heir didn't move, Harry aimed his wand again and cast a Banishing Charm at the boy. Harry felt sadistic glee as he saw Draco being thrown out of the compartment as if someone had blown him out of a low powered canon, before muttering, "Collorportus." A split-second later, the doors slid shut, leaving Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione alone.

Ron looked at Harry in awe. "Where did you learn that, mate?"

"I told you, I did some light reading before coming to Hogwarts. I didn't want to look like I didn't know anything." He sat down, pocketing his wand as he felt the anger inside him quell slowly.

He looked at Hermione, and felt panic well up within him as he noticed the fearful glint in her eyes. _I hope I didn't muck things up_ , he thought erratically. "What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked, probably already knowing the answer.

She wiped the unshed tears from her eyes and sniffed. "You…You attacked those boys," she stuttered. "Harry, you'll be in trouble for that, Professor Dumbledore might expel you for attacking them—"

"You're right, Hermione, they didn't deserve that just for calling you a m— you know," Ron muttered. Harry's head snapped up at him and Hermione began to smile. "They deserved worse," he growled, making Hermione swat him across the arm, although she did so playfully.

"Ron!" she admonished. Ron just grinned as Harry and Neville laughed.

"Ron's right, you know," Neville said timidly once the laughter died down, looking at his feet as he talked. "He deserved much worse for calling you the m-word. That's the foulest thing people can call you in the wizarding world. It means dirty blood, you see. Most purebloods think of muggleborns as a-animals. It's n-nonsense, I tell you. His mind's probably addled by all the inbreeding."

Harry stared at the chubby-faced boy next to him. This Neville was quite less nervous and cowardly than the one in the original timeline, and he liked this one better. It didn't matter, anyway. The whole point of him being here was to change things.

"But that still doesn't mean you can hurt him," Hermione protested, albeit rather half-heartedly.

Ron groaned. "Hermione, are you even listening to us? Calling someone that is unforgivable. It's a wonder Harry and I didn't kill him on the spot."

Hermione huffed, but she couldn't help but smile warmly. Maybe she was happy that someone was defending her. "Who was he, anyway?"

"Draco Malfoy, apparently," Harry said.

"Draco Shithead's more like it," Ron said savagely. Harry cracked a grin. "My dad's told me all about the Malfoys. They were followers of You-Know-Who, back when he was in power." The boy nodded to himself; he was on a roll now. "Ol' Lucius Malfoy himself was part of You-Know-Who's inner circle. When his master fell, Lucius claimed that he was coerced into doing such things, controlled by Voldemort's Imperius. They were found innocent but dad says that the main reason for their 'innocence' is their fortune stowed away in the Gringotts' vault…They think they're so great because they've had generations of wizards and witches in their family, but it doesn't matter. You saw how Harry took that blond idiot with a single hex, eh?"

Hermione smiled weakly.

A few minutes later, Hermione walked off to ask the conductor how long it would take to reach their destination, retuning to quickly inform them that the express would be stopping at Hogsmeade station soon. Harry chuckled at her bossy tone, but didn't mind in. In fact, after a year of not being with her and Ron, he relished it. They quickly changed into their robes, and grinned at each other when the Hogwarts Express came to a halt.

Harry eagerly greeted Hagrid as soon as they got off the train, before following the giant man towards the boats that would allow them to cross the lake and reach the castle. Harry felt like tearing up at the sight of his school; unlike other institutions, Hogwarts was like a second home to him. Still, he managed to keep his emotions in check as he climbed into a boat along with Hermione, Ron and Neville, the latter who seemed a tad frightened as his eyes glanced at the black waters.

The boat next to him consisted of Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. Noticing the glares the future Slytherins were giving him, and the way Draco was gingerly rubbing his abused crotch, Harry laughed out loud before his friends (Hermione included) joined him.

Harry felt a tad bit sorry for making Madam Pomfrey heal Draco's Stung bollocks.

Professor Minerva McGonagall was just as he'd remembered – her stern expression never ceased to make him cower. She surveyed them with the withering glare she was famous for, making all the first-years squirm in their spots. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said a moment later in a clipped tone. "I will take it from here."

The students quickly followed McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, Harry smiling wistfully as he stared at the large, oak doors that led to the great hall. He could hear muffled voices and laughter of those students reunited after a long summer. Harry didn't feel particularly nostalgic; he'd come to terms with what had happened after more than a year, but there was still that small want of going back to his former lifetime and meet with the people he'd known.

Harry stood nervously with the rest of the first-years, but didn't join their speculation about the Sorting ceremony this time around. Thinking about the Sorting Hat reading his mind utter terrified him – his mental shields were moderate at best, but his Occlumency would not even hinder the Hat a bit. He was actually nervous about the whole thing – what if it would tell Dumbledore about everything? The old man really did mean well, but that was what made it so hard to deal with him. While he wasn't close-minded like most wizards, Dumbledore would do whatever it took to make the actions he thought were best. He was still deciding whether to tell his mentor about his accidental time travel. In the end, he chose to make that decision later.

To put his stress out, he began chatting up with Neville. "Any idea where you'll be Sorted, Neville?"

Neville looked at the ground timidly. "Not r-really," he said. "I'm amazed I even got a letter. Gran said that I never showed any magic until two years ago – and even that was very little, she said."

 _I hardly think surviving a three-story drop is little magic_ , Harry thought grimly. That was the problem with Neville – his confidence had been crippled at a very young age, so he had no chance to build it up. Augusta Longbottom was a mean bitch – well, not as mean as the Dursleys – but certainly very strict, like a true pureblood matriarch. Not to mention that Neville used his father's wand instead of one that he had an affinity to, hindering his magical capabilities.

Harry gave him a wide smile. "Well, I hope you'll be in Gryffindor. Ron, Hermione and I are hoping to be there too."

"Gryffindor?" Neville almost scoffed. "H-Hardly. I mean, I was scared to get onto the boat, so how can I get into Gryffindor?"

 _If only you knew, Neville_ , Harry mused wryly.

Finally McGonagall arrived and led them into the great hall. Harry ignored the appraising stares the lot of first-years were receiving. Draco was strutting pompous – well, he was trying to, but ended up walking bowlegged. Harry snorted.

McGonagall was now standing next to the Hat, which immediately began to sing its annual song through the seam on the brim of its hat. It was identical to the one it had sung in the original timeline. When it was done, the transfiguration professor beside it rolled open the scroll and began to call out the names the newest students alphabetically.

He clapped his hands until his palms stung when Hermione and Neville were sorted into Gryffindor. The Hat seemed to take the longest time in sorting the two of his friends, just like last time. Draco was, predictably, Sorted into Slytherin, as were his bookends, Crabbe and Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson.

"Potter, Harry!" shouted McGonagall, and silence reigned until whispers broke out.

Harry simply ignored the calls of surprise and mutterings from the Hogwarts students seated at each of the four houses, as well as the nasty glares and dark looks the Slytherins were giving him; he'd spent one too many years being whispered about and looked at, his second, fourth and fifth years being the most prominent. As he walked up, Harry breathed a sigh and reinforced his strong Obfuscomency shields, hoping that he would at least be able to trick the Sorting Hat with the maze of memories within him.

However, the Hat had easy access to all of his memories and wasn't fooled a bit. " _You have incredibly strong Obfusco-Occlumency shields, Mr Potter, especially for an eleven year old like you…_ " the Hat muttered into his ear. " _But you aren't exactly an eleven year old, eh?_ "

Harry's shoulders slumped. _Okay, you got me_. He sighed resignedly.

" _They aren't going to fool me, Mr Potter_ ," the Hat continued. " _I see… By Godric… You have been living an interesting life, I see._ "

Harry shrugged. _You could say that_.

" _Hmm…This is a very cunning and ambitious plan you have in mind, Mr Potter, travelling back in time and meddling with fate_."

 _Please don't insult me_ , Harry thought. _I'm not going to Slytherin_.

" _But—_ "

 _A truly cunning person would never allow themselves to be put in the House of Cunning_ , Harry countered. He smirked. _Might as well be walking around with a sandwich board that reads 'I am a Sneaky Bastard'_.

The Hat tried to change tack. " _I can see you are very loyal, so that definitely earns you a spot in Huff—_ "

 _I'm loyal to my friends, who are in Gryffindor, and I want to go with them_.

" _Well, then_ ," Gryffindor's Hat said, trying its last card, " _you have an insatiable thirst for knowledge—_ "

 _Once I kick Voldemort's arse, I won't_ , Harry said firmly, a bit annoyed. _Plus, if I was a Ravenclaw, I'd want to be in the other houses to be the big fish in the pond. Also, why are you trying to convince me to go the other houses, Hat?_

The Hat huffed, equally annoyed. " _Very well. I suppose you want to go back to Gryffindor?_ "

 _I would like that very much_ , Harry said sardonically.

" _Before you go, Mr Potter, a small piece of advice,_ " it said. " _Try, as much as possible, to keep this information a secret. Your concerns are not needed – I will keep your secrets from ever reaching another's ears. You have been, in crude terms, screwed over and over a hundred times, and I hope you succeed in your endeavor_."

Harry smiled. _Thank you, Hat_ , he mumbled in his head.

" _While your plan undoubtedly earns you a spot in Slytherin, I must concede you are brave enough to carry out this task and put you in_ GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry walked to the Gryffindor table the second it erupted in cheers. It was by far the loudest, which Hufflepuff clapping politely with Ravenclaw, and only a handful of Slytherins applauding, albeit half-heartedly. Fred and George were chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Percy Weasley pompously shook hands with Harry, a gesture which the boy returned in earnest. This time around, Harry would make sure Percy would never turn away from his family.

He looked back at the Sorting Hat just in time for it to announce, "Gryffindor!" for the last time. Ron jumped off the stool and headed to the Gryffindor table, where Harry, Hermione, Neville, and the rest of the Weasleys, were clapping the hardest. Ron sat down next to Harry, stifling his blush as Harry thumped him on the back.

After Dumbledore's short speech, Harry dug into the food earnestly. Remembering half-remembered conversations, Harry joined in, listening in on Hermione's conversation with Percy about classes while the rest of the first-years introduced themselves. With a smile, Harry looked up at the staff table, narrowing his eyes when they reached Quirrel and reinforcing the maze of memories when Snape looked at him. He one hundred percent expected a Legillimency probe, but fortunately, it never came.

Maybe Hogwarts wasn't going to be as bad as it had before.

XxXxX

 **Thanks for reading, everyone!**

 **Another thing I'd like to say, before I leave, is that I have another Harry Potter story coming up…And it's going to have the same time travel theme. However, I think this will be the first of it's own, although I don't know if there are others of the same idea. However, if you enjoy my style of writing, I'll look forward to you checking out _Where It All Began,_ which will come out on the fifteenth of March.**

 **Review, please!**


	5. Arc I: The Snape of Things to Come

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Arc I: The Snape of Things to Come_

XxXxX

 _From the thick, gloomy mist and the number of cracked, grey tombstones littered around the grassy field, Harry immediately registered his surroundings as that of a graveyard. With a grunt, he pushed himself up, clutching his wand tightly as a spike of pain slithered up his injured leg._

 _Cedric Diggory frowned next to him. "They didn't tell us that there would be a second part to the task," he voiced, frowning._

 _"Wands out, d'you reckon?" Harry suggested. Cedric nodded, pointing his wand straight ahead of him._

 _Suddenly a jet of emerald light raced through the veil of fog ahead of them. Cedric barely had time to register it before it impacted his chest, extinguishing his life._

 _Harry watched in numb surprise as Cedric Diggory's bent backward in a graceful arc, and then his features slowly shifted to those of his dead godfather, a look of surprise on his face as he passed through the Veil of Death while Bellatrix Lestrange cackled madly next to him—_

Harry bolted upright, his body clammy and drenched in sweat. His fist was holding his holly-and-phoenix wand so tight that it was a wonder it didn't snap, and his heart was threatening to slam out of his chest. He wand was pointed straight ahead of him, as if expecting Wormtail to pop out from the shadows, but slowly began to calm down when he realized that he was safely tucked in his four poster.

"It was all just a dream," he whispered. He sighed. He'd been having nightmares about the horrible events of his 'past' ever since he'd travelled back in time. The visions ranged from him killing Quirrel to staring into the cold, red eyes of Lord Voldemort. _He's not my lord_ , he thought fiercely.

The nightmares had lessened over the past several months, but had suddenly picked up frequency ever since he'd received his Hogwarts letter. It was probably because Hogwarts had so many memories, both good and bad, and it was hard for him to act like the whole 'magic is real' thing was new to him.

Harry exhaled exasperatedly and put his wand at the side. He promptly lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, even though sleep wouldn't come.

XxXxX

Severus Snape was not a happy man.

Of course, many that knew him would find the humor in such a statement. Snape was never one to outwardly show any emotion other than disdain and disinterest. Rarely, when his patience was truly tested to the limits, would he reveal his anger and rage, and if he did feel emotions such as happiness or contentment or joy, he would only save them for his own private moments. He was a Slytherin, after all – and the only tears snakes shed were those of poison.

The reason for his annoyance and unhappiness was one Harry Potter, the spawn of his eternal nemesis James Potter. Oh, how he wished he hated that child, just like how he'd despised his arrogant swine of a father. Hatred was second nature to the man and came as easily as breathing, but his emotions for the boy were…mixed. There was only one reason for hating the boy, and that was his father, but the one thing that prevented him from accurately doing so was the woman he still loved, Lily Evans.

For eleven long years he had struggled with his emotions concerning the boy. He had never seen Potter's spawn, and the first time he did he had to suppress his urge to curse the child. Harry Potter was the splitting image of his dastardly father.

Snape would've treated Potter like something stuck to the sole of his boots if it weren't for his eyes. Those vivid emerald eyes that were the only things that differentiated the boy from Potter Sr, and reminded him of Lily.

But those were not the only things that made the boy different from James Potter. While James Potter was a Gryffindor to the bone, Lily had the capability to be in any of the four houses – the long period of time she spent under the Sorting Hat was proof, further adding to when she'd shared with him about her conversations with it. The fact that Potter (Harry, that is) had spent an equally long time with said hat only served to increase his confusion and curiosity regarding the boy.

The boy intrigued him. He'd expected him to have a big, bloated head after he was basically treated as the second coming of Christ in the wizarding world, but no. He seemed quiet. Subdued. He didn't relish his fame, as James Potter would've done – not much, anyway – and his eyes…They made him look unusually mature. For a moment he seemed as old as Severus.

Taking swig from the flask of firewhiskey, he reluctantly made his decision. He would give Potter a chance – just one chance. After that, if the boy did not prove himself, he would treat him as James Potter, even though it would hurt like a million Crucios to see the eyes of Lily Evans-Potter look at him with the undisguised hatred his own would portray.

XxXxX

The first week of classes had the same joy and confusion it held the first time around. The professors introduced themselves in the same way, with Flitwick toppling out of sight when he called out Harry's name and McGonagall shifting back into her human form, smiling slightly at the applause she received. Harry did not care much for Herbology – while Professor Sprout was a kind woman, it did not appeal to him as much as the other subjects did. However, Neville thrived in the greenhouses and was the only one to answer all of Sprout's questions correctly, albeit meekly, much to Hermione's chagrin.

Harry almost felt sorry Quirrel. The wizarding world was filled with moronic, greedy dreamers wanting only power, and Quirrel was only another pawn in Voldemort's battlefield. When he had willingly allowed Voldemort to possess him, Quirrel had sealed his fate to an early grave.

Harry also had to be careful this time around with his magical prowess. While McGonagall had been utterly pleased at Harry's abilities in Transfiguration, and Flitwick had told him that he'd taken after his mother in Charms, people would no doubt be suspicious with the way he was steamrolling the competition. While he didn't mind showing off (the expression on Hermione's face when he'd bested her amused him to no end) he did not want to draw too much attention to himself.

Harry had braced himself for what was to come in the dungeons, but Potions was far different than he'd expected it to be.

Harry put up his Obfuscomency shields mere seconds before Snape entered the classroom. Harry had decided to sit next to Neville, while Ron sat next to Hermione. Harry had checked his decoy memories for the umpteenth times, when Severus Snape glided into the room, his black clothes billowing behind him.

As before, Snape gave his introductory speech glorifying the art of potions, and then followed with the roll call. This time, however, the surly man did not insult Harry when he called attention, much to the boy's surprise and befuddlement. _What?_

However, Harry quickly conceded that maybe this Snape had simply forgotten, because he immediately began interrogating Harry. "Now, Mr Potter," began Snape in that lazy drawl of his, "tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Draught of Living Dead, _sir_." Harry glared at him, making the potion master's eyes widen fractionally. He was going to give Snape no chance to belittle him and make him look stupid, which was why he'd read ahead on potion textbooks from first to fifth year.

Snape didn't give up though. "Where would look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" he pressed. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Harry instinctively focused on the memory of his conversation with Ron on the Hogwarts Express, but the Legillimency probe never came.

"The stomach of a goat," Harry replied all to easily. He was having fun messing with Snape, although, to Harry's confusion, he didn't seem to perturbed.

"Mr Potter, pray tell, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"There is no difference."

Snape stared directly into Harry's eyes for a moment, and Harry felt a feather light touch against his mental barriers. Barely able to suppress his rage at the fact that his most hated professor was invading his mind, he allowed full access into one of Harry's memories, one where the Vernon Dursley had broken his arm in a drunken rage when he was six years old. He felt sick glee in the fact that Snape was personally taking a look at how pampered a life he was leading with his muggle relatives. _Take_ that _, Snape!_

Snape broke off within seconds into the memory and peered at Harry, who frowned. Was that a glint of…satisfaction in the man's eyes? He stopped his musings when Snape spoke in the drawl and averted his eyes. "You are correct, Mr Potter. Well done…for a Gryffindor."

Harry had to resist the urge to scream when Snape said that. Snape had never – would never – complimented a Gryffindor, no matter how much the person deserved it. The rest of the classroom was equally stunned. Ron was blubbering incoherently behind him, and the Slytherins looked like they'd been slapped.

There was something seriously wrong with Snape. Harry was seriously considering the notion of the Potions Master being under the Imperius. _Tell me the moon is made out of cheese, or that the world is flat, but a nice Snape? Not a chance!_

Snape, however, took no attention. "Now, the first thing this class will learn to brew will be…"

Harry barely paid attention; he was too busy reeling from Snape's changed behavior. Granted, the man hadn't yet abused him, but this was completely ridiculous. Not to mention the way the man looked at him was disconcerting. Maybe Snape was just screwing with him. Or perhaps he'd finally listened to Dumbledore and let go of his vendetta against Harry's father – yes, that was the most plausible answer to such a question.

However, everything between Harry and Snape was not suddenly sunshine and daisies. The man was still curt and the person that made up the nightmares of aspiring potioneers. Harry noticed that while Snape's attitude had changed towards him, he still took vindictive pleasure in belittling Neville. Within five minutes the Longbottom heir had bollixed his brew, resulting in a small explosion that showered Neville and Draco, who was next to the boy, with the half-brewed potion, angry boils surfacing their skin. Harry was only saved by casting a quick _Protego_ that prevent the concoction from drenching him. Snape berated Neville viciously before docking twenty points from Gryffindor for the mishap, and ordered Dean Thomas to take both of them to the hospital wing.

Hermione too got into trouble for using her wand to levitate the lacewing flies into the potion, for which Snape docked another five points. Still, he reluctantly mentioned that her brew was "decent for a muggleborn", which was a point in Harry's book – at least he didn't call her a mudblood, like he'd called his mother.

"Class dismissed," Snape said curtly once the hour was up. Harry, Ron and Hermione grabbed their things and briskly walked out, but not before Harry cast a frown of suspicion at an oblivious Snape. He would have to watch out for the man in the future.

XxXxX

Severus Snape sighed as soon as Potter and his friends left the classroom. "Perhaps…Perhaps he is more like Lily than his father," he conceded grudgingly. He'd regretted praising the blasted boy – he was sure that Potter would be welcomed a hero in the Gryffindor common room for making Snape give him points.

For the time being, he decided to ignore the boy's striking resemblance to James Potter and look at him as the son of Lily Evans.

Snape sighed. Sometimes, he hated his life.

XxXxX

The rest of the day went pretty well, in Harry's opinion. They'd visited Hagrid for tea later, reveling in the tales the large man had to tell them. Neville, still in the infirmary, was unable to come, but Hermione had joined them upon Ron's insistence.

On Friday, Harry found himself marching onto the grounds along with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years. He'd almost forgotten about Quidditch. He absolutely loved flying, and he elated at the fact that he was going to get on a broom after so long. He'd been banned from flying in his 'fifth year' by that bitch Umbridge, and he hadn't even seen one for a year, ever since he'd come from the past. He missed his Nimbus 2000/Firebolt, and wondered if he would get a chance to play for the Gryffindor team once again.

Madam Hooch's instructions were the same once they gathered around the old school brooms. Harry grinned when his broomstick launched into his hand when he said, "Up!" and he gripped it firmly. Hermione's broom was rolling on the ground and Ron's went up after three or four tries, but Neville's barely moved.

"To launch yourself into the air, please push off slowly," Hooch warned. "One, two, th— Mr, Longbottom?"

Like last time, Neville pushed off to hard and swooped into the air; Harry cursed himself for not remembering this little tidbit. Hooch was screaming at him to come down, but Neville was weaving erratically in the air, holding onto his broomstick for dear life. Harry quickly pulled out his wand as the other students watched in amazement.

There was a sickening crunch as Neville's side slammed into the wall, the impact jarring him enough for his grip to slacken. Parvati and Lavender shrieked as Neville plummeted, but Harry quickly shouted, " _Arresto Momentum_!" With a twirl of his wand, Neville stopped a couple of inches from the ground before he fell from the diminished height.

Madam Hooch leaned over Neville; by the looks of it, he'd broken his arm once again. She quickly conjured a stretcher and began levitating him towards the group, bandaging his injured arm along the way. Harry wondered why she hadn't used her own wand to save Neville.

"Move, all of you, the poor boy's broken his arm…" she was muttering. She looked at Harry with approval. "That was quick thinking, Mr Potter. Twenty points to Gryffindor, or else Mr Longbottom here would've broken much more than just his ulna. However, that's fairly advanced magic for someone your age." She looked impressed.

Harry shrugged, trying his best not to give away his annoyance for slipping up. "I've just been reading ahead, is all," he reasoned. It was technically true; he'd been made to learn that spell amongst many for his fifth year examinations.

She nodded. Then she glared at everyone. "Remain on the ground while I take Mr Longbottom to the infirmary," Hooch said sternly. "If I see anyone in the air, they shall be banned from further flying lessons before they can say 'Quidditch'!"

As soon as Madam Hooch left, Hermione converged on him. "How were able to use that spell? That's OWL-level," she said impatiently.

Harry was about to respond with his fabricated story when a hated voice spoke up. "I bet you loved that, didn't you Potter? Trying to suck up to the professors by performing magic—"

Harry glared at Draco. "Jealous, Malfoy?" Ron interjected.

Draco made a face. "Of paupers like you? I think not." He smirked. "I knew you Weasleys were just after Potter's money, why else would you suck up to the half-blood?" He sneered at Hermione next. "I bet the filthy mudblood's spreads her legs for that too—"

"Shut up, you bastard!" Ron roared, removing his wand as Hermione was pushed to tears once more. Harry was equally mad.

Draco backed up, then changed the subject. "Did you see Longbottom's face, the great lump?" he said. "Look at that! It's the stupid thing his grandmother gave him." He picked up the remembrall, inspecting it for a moment before he smirked. "Guess it's mine now."

"Give it back, Malfoy!" Dean shouted.

"I don't take orders from filthy mudbloods like you," he spat, leaping onto his broomstick and shooting up into the air. "Why don't you make me?" he called out.

Harry smirked. While he would rather like to get back on the Quidditch team, he didn't mind knocking Draco down a peg or two with a simple spell. He pointed his wand at Draco. " _Accio remembrall_!"

The orb slipped from Draco's clutches, but the Slytherin quickly gathered his wits and leaned forward, grabbing it back at the last second. He glared at Harry, but his sneer was faltering. "Your weak magic won't work on me, Potter," face me like a man!"

"Oh I will," he ground out, straddling his broom. Oddly enough, Hermione didn't stop him, probably still hurting from the mudblood comment.

"Screw him over, Harry," Dean encouraged.

"Yeah, kick his arse, Harry!" Ron added.

He quickly leaned forward, urging his broom to pick up speed. He saw Draco's face bend in shock, but the blond boy moved out of Harry's way at the last second, wobbling on his broom as he tried to find balance while also soaring higher into the air, Harry pursing him. Evidently, it was not working.

"No Crabbe and Goyle to save you up here, Malfoy," Harry said.

Draco's face contorted in rage and he clutched the ball tighter. "Fine, then!" He tossed the ball away, but made a dangerous mistake by unknowingly removing his grip from the neck of his broom. The reaction force from the throw pushed Draco back and made him off-balance, falling a second later.

Harry didn't even notice Malfoy falling off his broom and quickly dived towards the remembrall, catching it like the skillful Seeker he was. It was only when he wheeled around that he saw Malfoy plummeting to the ground, blonde hair flying. _He certainly deserves to be hurt, but I don't want him to die_ , Harry thought nimbly. A fall from such a height would be fatal, especially if he snapped his neck.

With a grunt, he leaned forward and zoomed straight towards Draco, who was screaming like the little girl he was. Harry reached out with his arm, and Draco, being the stupid, stubborn git that he was, didn't take his hand. Harry cursed out loud, then pushed downwards all the while saying colorful things about the Slytherin.

He heard someone scream when he grabbed Draco by the shoulder and flew towards the group of students. Malfoy's weight was pulling him down, but there would be enough time for Harry to slow to a halt. Harry's arm felt like it was tearing at the shoulder, but he sucked up the pain and focused and saving Draco, how much ever he hated the ponce.

As soon as they were close to the ground, Harry let go. Draco hit the turf and was tumbling for a few seconds before he came to a halt. Harry swiveled on his broom and hopped off a second later, grinning as the Gryffindors ran to him and patted him on the back.

"Oh shut up, Malfoy," Harry said in annoyance as Draco continued to bawl and throw threats about calling his father – the usual drivel.

"HARRY POTTER!" a voice – Professor McGonagall's, Harry realized – shrieked.

His friends immediately came to his defense.

"Professor McGonagall, Harry didn't do anything wrong—"

"—and he saved Draco, I wish he didn't but he did—"

"Malfoy was being a dick, Professor—"

"That was some wicked flying, Ma'am!"

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall screamed, and silence reigned. She looked at Harry, her mouth set in a thin line. "Mr Potter, come with me— keep quiet, or else it will be a hundred points from whichever house the person is speaking belongs to!" Then she sighed. "And someone escort Mr Malfoy to the infirmary – Weasley, Finnegan, take him please."

All talking ceased.

Harry was resisting the urge to grin as McGonagall lead him to the fifth-year DADA classroom, after which she introduced him to Oliver Wood. As expected, Oliver began to rant about Quidditch like a zealot and talked about how they would definitely win the Quidditch cup this year. Harry couldn't help be feel the same, although he did his best to keep the smirk of his face, instead opting to portray incredulity.

Showing Draco who was boss was fun, too.

XxXxX

 **I'm back!**

 **If you've reached this point, then thanks for reading. If you're new here, the favourite and follow this story if you liked it - I'll be posting at a faster pace from now on, now that I've sorted out my plans.**

 **I like Snape — not just because of Alan Rickman, but just because I can't help but pity his sorry arse — but Snape is still going to be a bit of a bastard to Harry. It's not going to be hugs and kisses between them, especially since Harry's hated him in his past life.**

 **Review responses:**

 **Abby Nesoya:** _Thanks for the praise!_

 **SuperApplePie** : _I think what Harry did was just plant a little seed of doubt, not completely change her mind. She's still very trusting of everything she reads, but she'll not take it completely at face value after Harry's remark._

 **George1892** : _Harry is somewhat of an introvert, and I'm pretty sure that he'd want to stick around with people he already knows rather than mingling with strangers. He'll feel far more comfortable spending time with the likes of Ron and Hermione rather than Susan Bones and Blaise Zabini. Plus, after his second and fourth year, I don't think Harry thinks the best of strangers._

 **nkh1** : _I think Harry does need to worry about the old timeline, and knows that acting rashly won't have the best results - Sirius's death is proof of that. He'll do a bit of planning and fill out all loopholes before doing something. He's a bit smarter and less naive since he's got a second chance at life, so I think he's going to slightly embrace his Slytherin side. Don't worry - Pettigrew will get his comeuppance very quickly._

 **Bye Felicia** : _Neville will be part of the Golden Trio, but as part of the secondary cast - not as prominent as Ron and Hermione, but as Harry's support team._

 **Separ** : _I ROFL'd so hard at this XD While I do enjoy reading Ron-Bashing fics (I get a certain vindictive pleasure from seeing characters being made a fool of), I kinda feel bad for him._

 **galbatorix1** : _Yes, there will be Hallows and Horcruxes._

 **DeliaDee** : _Thanks for sticking around :)_

 **antonyfirebreath** : _I'm a dude. As much as I cringe whenever I read nut-shots, I think Draco deserves it._

 **ZodiacsClaroline** : _It won't be the Weasleys or the Grangers, but someone else. I'll be taking a risk with that decision, though, since I don't know how the audience will receive it._

 **Phew. That was a lot. Anyway, thanks for reading, and I'll see you guys in the next chapter!**


	6. Arc I: Horrible Halloween

**_THE JUMP_**

XxXxX

 _Arc I: Horrible Halloween_

XxXxX

Dinner was a rather subdued affair – at least, until Draco arrived. After Harry had been appointed Seeker in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he was pleased to know that Draco was, instead, facing punishment. Ron and Seamus had told Hooch everything in detail when she'd looked at them inquisitively as they brought Malfoy to the infirmary, and she was livid. Draco had been give detention for a week and was henceforth banned from flying lessons, something that he complained about to no end, threatening Hooch that he would take the matter to his father. She was less than pleased, and took thirty points from Slytherin for disrespecting a teacher, which effectively shut him up.

Harry had been enjoying his meal with his friends, and Fred and George, who'd come over after learning Harry had become Seeker, until Draco came down and started in on him.

"I can take you anytime on my own," Draco remarked when he arrived.

"Really, Malfoy?" he said, a plan forming in his mind. Ron and Neville rose to back him up. "Name your time and place then."

Draco smirked. "Midnight, trophy room," he declared.

"Are you sure, Draco?" Harry said in a sickly sweet voice. "Will you take a wizard's oath promising you'll be there at midnight? We all know what the Malfoy word is worth, after all." He sneered.

Draco's smirk faltered.

Harry laughed. "Tell you what, Malfoy, since you're so stumped – I'll duel you at midnight, out of pity. Ron's my second, who's yours?" Of course, he had no plans going for the duel, and just wanted to set Draco up. Events could change, and if the Slytherin was provoked enough he could as well as waste the entire night waiting up for Harry to arrive.

"Crabbe," Draco said, his smirk recovering once he realized that he had the situation under control.

"Harry, you mustn't, you'll get into trouble!" Hermione said.

"You stay out of this, mudblood," he snarled, backing up when Harry took an angry step forward. Draco sneered when he realized that he had Crabbe and Goyle to protect him though, and continued. "Your company is unfitting of an Ancient and Noble House, Potter. First you have the pauper Weasley, the mudblood slag—" Hermione had to hold Ron back for both remarks, "—and then you have the squib Longbottom. The idiot still needs a remembrall. You might as well give it to your parents, Longbottom, maybe they'll remember what a useless offspring they've produced unless they've really lost their minds—"

Neville screamed a guttural roar of hurt and rage, so loud that the entire hall went quiet. With Draco momentarily stunned, Neville lunged forward and punched the Malfoy hair across his face, a sickening crunch filling Harry's ears. Neville's hands worked like pistons as he gutted Draco with his fists until Crabbe and Goyle stepped into the fray, shoving Neville back, long enough for Draco to recover and cast a stunning spell. Harry, however, was too fast, and with a quick Shield Charm, the stunner rebounded and struck Goyle in the chest, knocking him out.

Draco looked livid, blood streaming down his face and then he raised his wand once again. Before he could curse Harry, his wand flew out of his hand and straight into the palm of Minerva McGonagall, who had come down the staff table as soon as the fight started, along with Snape and Dumbledore. Harry glared at the Potions Master, who drew back briefly in surprise – Snape would undoubtedly do his best to protect Draco from punishment.

"What is going on?!" McGonagall shrieked. Then she noticed Harry's wand trained at Draco's nose. "Lower your wand, Mr Potter!"

Nodding curtly, he did so, but did not pocket it. He kept it out just in case one of the Slytherins, who had stood up, cursed him or his friends.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

"I would like to know as well," Dumbledore said softly. With a start, Harry immediately put up his Obfuscomency shield, focusing on the event that had just occurred in his mind. He noticed Dumbledore looking at him, but Harry's eyes were focusing on a point above his shoulder, just in case he wasn't ready for a surprise Legillimency attack.

"My nose," Draco bawled. McGonagall sighed, then waved her wand and muttered, " _Episkey_." Draco moaned even louder as his nose was magically set in place, and Harry was happy to see him in pain for the comments he'd just made.

"Explain yourselves!" Snape snapped at all of them. Harry scowled.

"Malfoy insulted all of us," Neville said roughly, clenching his fists. Only now Harry realized that his friend was blinking back tears. "He called Ron a beggar, Hermione a – a _mudblood_ "—there was a sharp intake of breath from McGonagall—"and then he insulted my parents, saying that they've l-l-lost their m-minds." At that, there was an outrage from those students who knew horrors had been brought upon Frank and Alice Longbottom. McGonagall looked livid.

She rounded on Draco. "Is that true, Malfoy?" she demanded, not deigning to treat the Slytherin boy with respect.

"He's lying, Professor," Draco said quickly. "I just came to congratulate Potter on saving me during flying class earlier—" Saying the words itself pained him, because he made a face, but before he could complete there were shouts of, "Liar!"

"It seems that the vast majority of the school disagrees with you, Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said coldly. Draco scowled.

"For such rude and crass remarks, _Mr_ Malfoy," McGonagall said, "a week's detention and fifty points from Slytherin." There was an uproar from the Slytherin table as the emerald beads vanished, but she didn't care. "I shall be writing your parents regarding your appalling behavior, and you will report to Mr Hagrid for your detentions. Mr Longbottom, while I cannot blame you for your reaction, fighting is prohibited. Ten points will be deducted from Gryffindor house, and you will be spending detention with Professor Sprout tomorrow. Is that clear?"

Neville nodded. Sprout was his favorite professor; plus, he could spend some time in the greenhouse gaining tips and learning about new plants from the dumpy witch during his detention.

"What about Potter?" a voice called from the Ravenclaw table. "He used his wand."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "As far as I saw, Mr Potter only used a shield charm to protect his fellow classmate and not an offensive spell."

Snape frowned at Draco, who was cowering under the withering glares from his housemates. "An additional detention with me, Mr Malfoy, for having no cunning. I shall also be writing Lucius about your…misconduct."

Harry blinked. Did Snape just punish his own Snakes? He didn't have time to think about it, because Dumbledore ordered Draco to visit the infirmary to have a proper checkup, while Ron pulled Harry to the bench. He noticed Snape staring at him and slammed his Obfuscomency shields, and a few seconds later the grouchy bat swept away, cape fluttering behind him.

"The duel's still on, Potter," Draco hiss, low enough for only Harry and his friends to hear. Harry didn't even bother – he wasn't going anywhere.

He turned his attention to Neville. Snape was a complicated man, and it would take ages to figure him out. He looked at Neville, who was staring moodily at his dinner place, his jaw clenched and his eyes blinking rapidly. For a brief moment, he looked like the teenager that had fought by Harry's side in the Department of Mysteries, willing to give up his own life to protect the ones dear to him.

Sometimes, Harry felt that Neville got a far worse deal than Harry. At least his parents had died a quick, painful death. Neville's had undergone hours of torture under the wands of the Lestranges and Crouch Jr until their minds had permanently cracked and rendered permanently insane, holed up in a secure ward of St Mungo's. Whenever he visited, their presence only served to remind Neville what was so close to him, but was unable to gain.

All around his, Gryffindors were passing comments of praise and approval for beating the living daylights out of Draco. But it hadn't been about that. It hadn't been about one-upping Draco just to bask in the approval and cheers of his housemates. He'd only lashed out because Draco had crossed the line and hurt the people he cherished with those foul words.

Harry wondered why, in his previous timeline, he'd never thought of Neville as a true Gryffindor until the end of his fifth year.

XxXxX

Later that night, Harry suddenly felt his body being shaken. Groaning, his eyes flitted open, slowly coming to his senses. He realized that he was being shaken awake, and his eyelids finally snapped open for him to stare into the glaring visa visage of Ron Weasley.

"Ron?" Harry croaked. "What happened…?"

"We need to get going, Harry," he said, handing Harry his glasses. "We've got to meet Malfoy at the trophy room, remember?"

Harry groaned in annoyance. "Come on, Ron!" he said. "Do you really think Malfoy's going to be there? It's just a ruse to set us up – he's probably snitched to Snape or Filch."

"And what if he _is_ waiting?" Ron countered angrily. "I, for one, don't want to be called a coward. Come on, Neville's already downstairs. Quickly!" he hissed.

Harry propped himself on his elbows. Ron really was thick, not being able to see through Draco's plan. It wasn't like Harry had know about it the first time around, but still – at least he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "You're mad."

Ron didn't say anything and simply pulled Harry out of the bed, thumping him on the back as he grinned before tossing him his wand. Harry grimaced. He obviously didn't want to go, but he didn't want to let Ron out of the common room, alone with Neville, either. With a sigh, he reluctantly walked down the spiraling staircase and into the Gryffindor common room.

The room was quite dark, but he could make out Ron shaking a sleeping Neville awake. Neville whined at the intrusion, but sighed and rose from the armchair to follow Ron outside.

"I can't believe you three are going to do this," said a bossy voice. Harry turned to see Hermione walking down the girl's dorms, a frown on her face.

"Stay out of this, Hermione," Ron said.

Her face bent in hurt. "I thought we were friends, Ron," she muttered.

"Of course we are," Harry said walking next to Hermione. "Ron's just being a git." He glared at the boy in question.

"Hey! I just don't want Malfoy and his cronies to call us cowards, is all," Ron protested. He looked at Neville for help. "Neville, you understand, right? I mean, especially after you showed him up at dinner…"

"That was different, Ronald," said Hermione, glowering. "Malfoy said some harsh words to us, and he insulted Neville's parents." She had been horrified when Harry and Ron had told her about Frank and Alice Longbottom after she kept persisting, and she told Neville that the Lestranges should've died instead of simply rotting in Azkaban, adding further that their existence was an insult to the respected Aurors.

"We can't just let them besmirch our honor!" Ron hissed.

"That's a shitty excuse, Weasley," Harry said.

Ron scowled. "Whatever. If you're just scared, you could've just said so. _I'm_ going to duel Malfoy, with or without you! Neville, come _on_!" he urged. Neville looked helpless as Ron practically dragged him out of the common room, casting one last apologetic glance at Harry and Hermione before he disappeared through the door.

"Let's go, we've got to stop them," Harry growled, taking angry steps towards the Fat Lady's portrait. "The idiots will get themselves caught!"

Hermione frowned, but followed him outside. They thought they'd lost Neville and Ron at first, but then saw their small silhouettes in the distance, and quickly tiptoed towards them. While Harry had wanted a good night's rest, he also didn't want Ron and Neville to get caught by Filch and his damn cat, and so continued following them with Hermione. He had half a mind to body-bind Ron and levitate him back to the common room.

Harry was shocked when he reached the trophy room. Standing at one end, with his cronies flanking him, was Draco Malfoy. Harry almost threw up at the sight. Draco had actually come here tonight? Despite his beliefs that he was going to change the future for the better, Harry almost wished that he hadn't come back. There were so many irregularities that he hadn't expected to be there, and he could only imagine what effect it could have on the timeline as a whole.

Ron was struggling to get out of Neville's grasp, who was doing his best to hold his friend in one place. Draco was drawling insults at him, but turned his attention to Harry the second he made his appearance. "So, finally decided to come, eh Potter?" he sneered, although Harry could notice the hint of worry and fear in his eyes. "And you decided to bring the mudblood with you."

"If you're done talking, Malfoy, then let's duel," Harry snapped, resisting the urge to curse the boy then and there for the use of the derogatory term. Hermione didn't look that affected by it, but he could still notice the way her jaw tightened when Draco uttered the word.

"It'll be a pleasure to wipe that smirk off your face, Scarhead," Draco said gleefully as he took his place. He glanced at Neville. "Longbottom! Officiate the duel, if that old hag has taught you something."

Neville scowled at the dig at his grandmother, but refrained from saying anything, taking solace in the notion that Harry would show Draco his place. He took a spot halfway along the trophy room, as Draco and Harry stood at either side of the vast chamber.

"Wands at the ready!" Neville said in a somewhat authoritative voice. "Duelists will begin at the count of three. One…two—"

Draco's wand, however, immediately moved on two, but Harry was prepared for it. He wrenched his face in disgust at the dirty tactic, but sidestepped his way out of the trip jinx at the last second with practiced ease. At first he wondered how Draco's spell work had become so pathetic, but realized a split-second later that he was just an eleven year old arrogant twit.

" _Tarantallegra_!" Draco spat. Once again, Harry jumped out of the spell's way, infuriating Draco even further.

Within seconds it was clear who was going to win. Draco knew a good number of spells, but Harry had the hidden advantage of having five years of experience over his opponent. Harry was the better fighter, and even Draco was starting to realize it, however slowly.

" _Serpensortia_!" Draco bellowed, and a nasty, sickly black snake sprouted out of the end of his wand. Not wanting to brand himself as a parselmouth in front of several witnesses, Harry simply waited for the snake to reach the mid-point between himself and his opponent before he acted.

" _Reducto_!" The snake exploded into fragments as soon as the curse slammed into it, and its innards were sent flying in all directions, although they disappeared a second later. Draco, furious at the cavalier way his conjured snake was destroyed, began to twirl his wand, but Harry had had enough and decided to end it then and there.

" _Expelliarmus_!" Harry said lazily. The disarming spell clipped Draco, and his wand was torn from his grasp. But before Draco could even register what had happened, Harry blasted him away with a cry of " _Stupefy_!" and Crabbe and Goyle could only watch in muted horror as Draco was knocked unconscious.

"Does anyone else want to have a go?" Harry taunted with a snarl. Crabbe and Goyle shook their heads. They weren't that stupid. If Draco had been defeated so easily, then they stood absolutely no chance.

"Good. Keep your master in line—" he started to say, but suddenly a voice interrupted him.

"Who's there?" a gravelly voice yelled from afar, followed by a shrill meow.

"Blimey, it's _Filch_!" Ron cried. Hermione nearly shrieked, and Neville looked scared. Crabbe began trying to shake Draco awake, but to no avail.

"Crap. Come on, let's go!"

Footfalls sounded as Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron made their escape from the trophy room, leaving Malfoy and his goons behind. The hallway was dark, but as they saw a faint light illuminating the stone at a turn. Neville whimpered and looked ready to soil himself, but Harry calmed himself and clutched his wand in his arm.

The second the source of light appeared – a lamp – Harry whispered, " _Reducto_ ," and prayed for his spell to hit its mark. Sure enough, it did. There was a yelp from (presumably) Filch as the curse hit the lamp and shattered the glass, and crystal shards were Sprayed in the air while the flame inside sputtered out, darkening the hallway once again. Harry could hear Filch curse and yell all sorts of colorful words, but at least he nor his cat would be able to identify them come morning. Neville moaned at the sudden darkness, but Harry managed to grasp the boy by his arm and yank him in the other direction, Hermione and Ron following them only a step behind.

Once they were out of earshot, Harry and the rest stopped to catch their breath. " _Lumos_!" Harry's wand tip produced a point of light that illuminated their heaving, red and sweaty faces. Neville was, unsurprisingly, shaking. Ron was grinning slightly, while Hermione was white in the face.

"We— we were almost caught," Hermione said. She turned and glared at Ron, smacking him on the back of his head. "You absolute idiot. We would've been expelled because of you!"

"But we weren't," Ron said, still grinning. "Besides, it was fun seeing Malfoy being knocked out. I bet Snape's going to be furious when Filch interrupts his sleep."

"I didn't even expect Malfoy to be there," Harry admitted. Maybe it was because Harry had made so many changes in this lifetime that Malfoy had made a different decision? Of course, he didn't expect everything to remain the same – hell, he'd expected there to be massive differences because of the measures he'd taken – but he hadn't expected a change in Draco's behavior. Maybe it was just another ripple effect?

"Can we j-just go back to the common room?" Neville whispered. Everyone looked at him. "I don't want to wait around and risk being caught by Filch. _Again_."

XxXxX

On Halloween, Harry's nerves felt like they were on fire.

He was understandably distraught and scared. After all, every Halloween had ended up setting precedents for horrible events to come for the remaining year. In his then-second year, Mrs Norris had been Petrified. In his third, Sirius had broken into Hogwarts and shredded the Fat Lady's portrait, even if it was with good intentions.

And on this very day, Harry and Ron had nearly been killed trying to save Hermione herself from death.

So it didn't come as a surprise when he found himself on edge during Charms class. Through the corner of his eyes, he kept glancing at Ron and Hermione working on the levitation charm whenever Neville wasn't urging him to focus on his own feather. He'd been so nervous that, when Professor Flitwick asked him to perform the charm, the feather had rocketed straight in the air like a bullet, much to everyone's shock and awe.

Never had Filius Flitwick seen a student levitate a feather with enough strength to almost penetrate flagstone.

Thankfully, Harry's feat seemed to have done the trick and distracted Ron from snapping at Hermione and leaving her in tears. Harry blushed as Flitwick showered him with praise and awarded Gryffindor five points, but inside his nervousness had multiplied tenfold. Had they gotten suspicious? Was Flitwick going to look into his sudden display of magical technique?

A few hours later, Harry and his friends found themselves seated at the Gryffindor table as they awaited for the food to arrive. The hall was exactly how he remembered – ghostly candles hovering from the pitch-black ceiling with only a few stars dotting the Black expanse. Occasionally, carved pumpkins lay on the table and the students waited for them to be filled with candy. Any moment now…

Dumbledore rose from his throne of gold and smiled benevolently upon the Hogwarts students down his crooked nose. He spread his arms, twirling his wand and shooting golden sparks. "Let the feast begin!"

The Hogwarts students collectively cheered – it seemed that celebrations were the only thing which they could _all_ agree upon.

As Harry began to dig into some cottage pie, his shoulders slackened. He looked to his right, noticing Hermione smile as food appear in front of her, then to his right, watching Ron pig out and Neville eat without any nervousness, and he smiled. Everything was alright. He was never going to lose his friends. He would make sure.

"Zis foo'—" Ron thumped his chest. "Iz deeshus!" Harry laughed.

"Chew before you swallow, Ronald!" Hermione reprimanded, although even she was smiling. Just as she said that, however, the doors to the Great Hall flew open, and Quirrel entered in a panic, his arms flailing.

"TROOOOOOLL! TROLL, IN THE DUNGEONS!" he yelled, whimpering. "Thought you ought to know," he mumbled, dropping like a sack of rocks.

Harry scowled, disgusted by the man. He felt embarrassed an not seeing through the man's pathetic act the first time around – how had he ever been fooled by the overenthusiastic fall to the ground?

Unfortunately, the entire student body seemed to believe Quirrel's warning. Perhaps it was because of his foreknowledge that Harry wasn't screaming and hyperventilating like the rest of his schoolmates. Instead, Harry looked straight at the staff table, and at Dumbledore, whose face had turned stormy as he rose from his seat and pointed his wand at his vocal chords.

"SILENCE!" he boomed, and instantly the hall quietened under his command. Once he was satisfied, Dumbledore cancelled the enchantment and his voice turned to normal, and he addressed his students calmly. "Prefects, lead your houses back to the dormitories. Immediately!"

Percy Weasley immediately rose from his seat and rounded the entire house before leading them out of the great hall. "Follow me!"

As Harry filed in line and trailed behind Percy, ignored the tones of shock and fear from his friends and chose to stare at Quirrel's "unconscious" form on the floor. Part of Harry wanted to rush over and press his hands into the man's face and get the job done with. But the other half knew that things had to play out accordingly. Otherwise, everything would go to hell and his foreknowledge would be useless. He could not make great changes in this timeline.

Except for Wormtail. Harry glared at the tittering rodent carefully tucked in Ron's arms. Oh, how he longer to strangle the bastard and end him to right then and there. But Scabbers time would come, in a few months anyway. He just needed a favor from the twins first.

He smiled when he saw Hermione go on about trolls while Ron listened in disinterest and Neville petted Trevor. At least this time, there was no one to save.

XxXxX

A pale hand clasped around the tap and closed it shut, making the water stop to a drop. A tired Daphne Greengrass looked into the marred mirror to make sure her uniform wasn't frayed. It wouldn't do for her to look untidy in front of her peers.

It was now time to go back to the feast, she mused. Greengrass sighed. She hated Halloween. It brought back raw stories of her father being cut down by Aurors as he tried to escape along his fellow Death Eater comrades. He was a fool for joining their lost cause, but she knew he loved her, and it hurt every time she was reminded of his absence. She wondered how the Potter boy managed to keep a straight face on today of all days.

She was just about to tie her shoes when she heard a low rumble from the bathroom's entrance. For some reason, her shoulders tensed and she felt goosebumps all over her. There was something… _wrong_.

Greengrass rose, frowning, and turned to look at the entrance and her heart stopped. A troll. A massive, ugly, magical monster with a thick wooden club held loosely in his gnarly, meaty hand. Her heart raced as the troll finally locked its massive, yellow eyes onto her, its lip curling into a nasty snarl as its grip tightened around its heavy weapon.

The troll loomed over her, growling. Greengrass _screamed_.

It was a heavily wrecked bathroom that entered Minerva McGonagall's and Severus Snape's vision, just in time to see the troll bring its club down on the unconscious form of Daphne Greengrass. Bones crunched under the wood and blood splattered as the troll roared.

A wave of black energy washed over the great beast and sent its stumbling into the flagstone walls, the monster groaning in pain. McGonagall turned to see Snape cast another offensive spell, his black eyes glittering focused anger, concealed under a mask of calm and cool.

A split-second later, McGonagall joined her colleague, burying the troll under a wave of lethal magic.

XxXxX

Disbelief rang through Harry as he lay seated at the Gryffindor table. He hadn't expected his precautions to turn out this way.

Dumbledore was dressed in black robes, a remorseful expression talking over his usually genial face. "It is my sad duty to inform you of the death of a Hogwarts student," he said. "Last night, Daphne Greengrass was killed by the troll that had managed to enter Hogwarts grounds. She was an exceptional witch with a bright future ahead of her…"

Harry was numb to Dumbledore's words as he stared hard at the table wood in shock. _How_ could this have happened? Thus hadn't happened last time. Why did it have to happen _now_? He hadn't known Greengrass, but that didn't undermine her death. He looked at the Slytherin table. There were several faces that looked solemn and sad, but many looked as if they didn't care. Draco looked bored. Only a few had cried over her death – their faces were noticeably puffy and red, and one of them – Tracey Davis, he guessed? – was _still_ crying as Dumbledore talked.

Harry felt his heart quicken. He'd promised to let there be zero casualties this time around, but he'd lost so early in the game. As Dumbledore's speech came to a close, Harry clenched his fists. Quirrel was going to pay.

XxXxX

 **Yes, I killed Greengrass. Mwahahaha!**

 **I'm sorry for not putting this our sooner, but I had a really strong writer's block hit me. Plus, I was focusing on putting out updates on some of my other stories, so, once again, I apologise for that.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you're new here and if you like what I'm doing, keep tabs by following and marking this story as a favourite. Don't forget to review, and I'll see you next time.**


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